Victor's Story
by ArabellaFaith
Summary: Victor's been steadily losing his passion for skating, until one night a drunk Japanese man turns his world on its head. This is Yuri on Ice told from Victor's first person POV, starting at the Grand Prix and continuing on. Rated M for smut in later chapters, with each chapter corresponding to an episode.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello all, just a few quick words before you get started. As said in the summary, this fic is a companion to the show. Some parts are scenes in the show but told from Victors POV and others (usually ones that I felt were explained fully in the show and didn't require any further story) are skipped over entirely. If you've watched the episodes as many times as I have, it won't be a problem for you to keep up, but if not, you may want to brush up if theres a scene skip and suddenly you don't know what's going on. Don't worry, most of it is covered fairly well, so you should be good either way._**

 ** _Also, writing alongside a story instead of after the original work or an AU was far more difficult than I expected, and the pacing of this isn't quite my norm. Still, I think it didn't turn out half bad. I do plan to chapter spam it as I get them edited, though. I'm going to try to break them up into episodes, if possible. Hope you enjoy!_**

"This marks the fifth consecutive Grand Prix final win for Russian skater Victor Nikiforov..."

Those words should have made me happy. They were more than any competitive skater could hope to hear. It meant that for five years in a row, I'd been the best in the world at what I did. While I had solid competition, it was even likely that I could take the gold another year or two before my body started to slow down.

But instead of feeling accomplished, delighted, satisfied, I felt... hollow. I was proud of myself, yes, but there was no excitement. No thrill. Somewhere along the way, I had lost my love of competition. If I couldn't surprise anyone, what was the point? A win simply for the sake of winning wasn't worth it to me. I wanted more. Instead of letting my dismay show, I smiled for the crowd, kissed my metal, and waved as if nothing was wrong. As if my whole world hadn't been turned in on itself.

Who was I without the competitions?

I had been alone for so long that skating had become my whole life. After my parent's deaths, it was the only thing that gave me real pleasure. I had thrown myself into competitive skating, and it hadn't been long before I began winning medals. I could pour my heart out onto the ice, express my deepest emotions through my body's movements, find comfort and clarity in my skating. It was the ultimate thrill to shock and awe not only the crowd, but myself as well. I pushed to higher and higher limits, setting two world records and taking gold after gold.

Now, though, that had become expected of me. No matter how good I was, how passionate my performance, how skilled my moves, it was mundane. So what was left for me? Why should I continue competing if there were no new heights to attain?

I would always love skating. No matter what else, it would always have a huge place in my life. But perhaps this would be my last year doing so competitively. Maybe that was the only surprise left for me to give. Chris would certainly be shocked. I know he'd wanted to skate against me at least one more time. He was determined to beat me some day. I smiled as I thought about how outraged he would be if I denied him the chance. He would understand, though. And Makkachin wasn't getting any younger. It would be nice to spend as much time with him as he had left.

Once I changed out of my costume, I went in search of Yakov. He was scowling furiously at Yuri, which was no surprise. Yakov was scowling more often than not. A few years before, I'd overheard him yelling at Yuri about quads. He'd given me the same lecture about not doing quads until my senior debut. I told my coach to go easy Yuri and tried to encourage him- after all, he would be able to do the quads in a few years, and he didn't need them to win the juniors. Despite the ire in the boy's glare as he spoke to me, I knew he looked up to me. We had skated together many times since Yakov had started coaching him, and he watched me the way one would study a puzzle. Those sharp eyes were continually analyzing me, trying to unravel the secret to my success so he could emulate it. Sometimes, I worried about his intensity. Being passionate about skating was one thing, letting it consume you was another. There was no reason for him to repeat my mistakes. But, I had promised to choreograph a short program for his senior debut if he won the juniors, which he had just done.

I sat to watch the rest of the performances. Part of me wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel room and ponder my future, but I knew there was still the banquet to get through and I would be expected there. Despite my personal turmoil, I wouldn't insult my sport or my competitors by skipping it.

Soon enough, it was time to head down to where the others were gathered. There was an enormous variety of food and a seemingly endless supply of champagne. Despite that, it was rare for anyone to actually get drunk at the banquets. Instead, it was more of a chance to learn and exercise etiquette and refinement. There were times towards the end of the night that space was cleared for a dance floor, and occasionally the skaters got a little enthusiastic in their performances, but that had more to do with excitement than alcohol.

It seemed that one skater was determined to break from the norm, though. Yuuri Katsuki, who I'd heard of, but had never competed with until that very evening, had moved on from drinking his champagne out of flutes to chugging it directly out of the bottle. The man was shorter than me, and while slightly heavier, he was still far from bulky. Surely he couldn't hold his liquor that well. I wondered vaguely how long it would be before he became knock down drunk. Not long, from the looks of it.

I didn't blame him for wanting to drink. This had been his first Grand Prix, and while it was obvious he was a talented skater, he'd let nerves get the better of him. His score hadn't been anything to be ashamed of, but it was far below his potential. He'd gone from third to last and it had been a hard thing to watch. I wondered what he would be like if he could learn to not miss his jumps when he was nervous. Competition even for me, I was fairly certain. His foot work was flawless, and his stamina was astounding.

As if he wanted to drive that exact point home, he began to dance to the music. It was some classical piece I didn't recognize, but I knew instantly that I would never forget it. Any time in the future when I thought of grace or fluidity, that song would play in my head and I would see Yuuri dancing. He seemed to move with an ethereal ease, as if the song was already inside of him and he was using his body to release it. I was entranced. If he could dance like this on the ice, he would be unbeatable. My earlier estimation of him hadn't been wrong, but I hadn't given his potential enough credit. There was more to him, so much more.

I watched, bemused, as my younger counterpart got drawn into a dance off with the elder Yuuri and several of the other skaters. I saw Chris slip out and wondered how long it would be before he returned with his portable stripper pole. Despite the obvious fun everyone else was having, I hung back. I wanted to watch, to witness these unguarded moments of Yuuri moving across the dance floor. See his body move to the music, bend and sway, as graceful as the ebb and flow of the ocean.

A few others had their phones out to capture pictures or videos of the impromptu performances, and I snapped some for myself. It truly was beautiful. Watching him made something inside me unfurl and expand. Attraction, perhaps? It had been a long time since someone had stirred desire within me. Still, I couldn't deny that there was something incredibly sensual about the dance I was observing. A smile slowly spread across my face. It took me a moment to realize that I was having _fun_. It was as novel as it was enticing.

Just when I was beginning to think that I might join the others and take the opportunity to watch Yuuri more closely, the man himself swirled right up to me and pulled me in for a dance. The music had a strong Latin beat, and he began the unmistakable _tap-tap-stomp_ of a Paso Doble. I fell into step with him instantly. A swell of joy surge in me unlike anything I'd felt in years. We circled each other, drawn together and then cast apart in the flow of the music. It was exhilarating. I could see that despite the haze of alcohol in his eyes, he was watching me as intently as I was watching him. The music changed far too soon for my taste, but instead of letting me back away, he pulled me flush against his body to lead me through a tango.

My heart began to pound in my chest. Despite being shorter than me, he twirled me around and then dipped me with ease. Our bodies moved in perfect rhythm, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of our suits. He dipped me again, his hand high on my thigh as he held my leg aloft, and for one wild moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.

I waited, breathless. Never before had I experienced such a strong, sudden rush of desire for another person. My lips parted slightly, as if in expectation. His head dipped fractionally closer, then he pulled away. I forced myself not to be disappointed. After all, there wasn't any rush. If this was anything more than a drink induced whim – and I was beginning to desperately hope it was – then we had all the time in the world to see where this led. If my hunch was right at all, then exploring more with Yuuri would be something I wanted to savor slowly.

He slipped off the dance floor and took several long pulls off a bottle of champagne. Really, someone ought to cut him off before he made himself sick. Perhaps after one last drink, I would intervene. I lost sight of him for a few moments, and when I saw him again, his pants were gone and his hideous blue tie was around his forehead like a tribal band. I raised my hand to my lips to stifle my laugh. How could he make such a ridiculous outfit look so incredibly adorable?

I started over to him, intent on removing the bottle from his hand before he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor, but found he was heading my direction already. When he reached me, he staggered drunkenly, then flung himself against me and wrapped both arms around me tightly. I blinked at him in shock. Dimly, I heard him telling me that his family owned a hot spring resort in his home town, and asking me to visit. That in itself was enough to set my heart galloping again, but then he looked up at me, eyes enormous and guileless.

"If I win the dance off, you'll train me, won't you? Be my coach, Victor!" My breath caught, my heart felt as if it had stopped. How was I, or any mere mortal, supposed to resist those supplicating eyes? That earnest demeanor? He couldn't mean it, surely, but there was no hesitation in his gaze. He wanted _me_ to coach him? What about his current coach? What about my career as a fellow skater? Not to mention that I'd never coached before... Most skaters usually spent _years_ building up their reputations as coaches before taking on skaters at our level. And yet here he was, asking me to be the one to train him.

Before I could think of any answer at all, he spun away from me and headed towards the bathroom at a sprint. I barely restrained my chuckle, even as I felt bad for his stomach. He reappeared a few minutes later looking no worse for the wear, and began to dance again. By then, Chris had set up his pole and the two of them spun around on it seductively. A slight blush stained my cheeks as I watched Yuuri preform an inverted flag. It was incredibly erotic, especially considering he was wearing nothing more than tight boxer briefs. The fact that there was an entire room full of people watching him as well in no way lessened the intimacy of it.

All skaters are strong, it's simply a necessity of the profession, but it was obvious that Yuuri had a kind of athleticism that came from years of hard work. I wondered ever so briefly how that strength and flexibility would make him as a lover, and then pushed the thought away. Too soon, far _far_ too soon. Instead, I enjoyed the performance and decided as did nearly all the others, that Yuuri was the winner of the dance off.

Did that mean he would expect me to go to Japan and coach him? Despite the insanity of the idea, it left me excited. I was intrigued, and on more levels than one.

His coach bustled in and swept him from the banquet hall before we could speak again, and I made my way to the hotel not long after, thinking very seriously about my future.

The next morning, I was thankfully hangover free. Not that I'd had that much to drink. Far less than Yuuri, certainly. I wondered how he was feeling. No doubt his head would be killing him. What would he think about his actions the night before? Would be regret having asked me to coach him? Perhaps be embarrassed by his dancing? After all, my experience with him was limited, but it had been far more uninhibited than anything I'd ever seen him do before.

I wondered if he had even meant the request for me to train him. There had been more champagne in his system than any man his size had a right to be able to handle. It was entirely possible that he wanted to forget the whole thing – including the sexual tension between us – which I sincerely hoped wasn't the case. Still, there was little I could do until I had the chance to speak to him about it. I dressed and met up with Yakov and Yuri, then we headed to the airport.

We were walking towards our terminal and I was talking to Yuri about his performance – with him rejecting every bit of advice I gave him – when I spotted Yuuri behind us. I turned and waved. He didn't wave back, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. I'd just been thinking about the fact that while I had many pictures (and videos) of the previous evening, I didn't have a single photo of just the two of us together. When I called out to him asking if he wanted to take one, he turned away without a word.

I stifled the hurt that shot through me. He was likely embarrassed by how drunk he'd been the night before. Maybe he thought I would laugh at him for the request. Or perhaps he didn't want to discuss it in front of his current coach. Either way, I let it go. _And_ enjoyed the sight of him as he walked away.

I boarded the plane that would take me back to Russia and then onto the whirlwind of remaining competitions through the rest of the season. My drive to win hadn't returned, but the thought of Yuuri's request stuck with me, keeping me motivated to finish strong.

I watched his next competition and cringed in sympathy as he fell on nearly every single jump. It was easy to see he was so deep inside his own head that he wasn't able to execute his routine properly. I was frustrated just watching it. He was so talented, there was no reason for him to be having so much trouble. He finished dead last. After that, he left his coach and stopped skating publicly. I wondered, idly, if he was waiting for me. It was an arrogant thought, of course, but it persisted the longer he stayed out of the rink.

When my season finished, I returned to my apartment in St Petersburg alone. Makkachin was ecstatic to see me, which was wonderful, but not for the first time I felt keenly the absence of another person in my life. Coming home to an empty apartment wasn't the most welcoming experience. It had been far too long since my last meaningful relationship, and once more, my mind turned to Yuuri. When I saw him again, would there still be that supercharged sexual tension between us? It was possible that he'd become involved with someone else in the time since I'd seen him last. Really, I knew so little about him. Far too little.

I had been searching the internet for more information about him (perhaps the _least_ reliable place to find accurate information, I knew) when the video link popped up on my phone. I clicked it after barely a glimpse at the title, already half in love with it just because it had his name next to mine. The camera shook, then zoomed in on a lone figure. _Yuuri_. He lifted his arms, spun, slid to the side. My breath caught. I recognized those movements. How could I not? They were _mine_. My routine, my choreography. Though it was obvious that he wasn't in peak condition, there was a kind of magic to the way he glided across the ice. A sincerity that even my own performance lacked.

I couldn't look away.

Nothing since the night of the banquet had enticed me so much. I was spell bound, enthralled, compelled to keep watching until the very end. Then I watched it again. _This_ was the Yuuri that had caught my attention. _This_ was the man that could be unbeatable on the ice. Somehow, I knew there was no way he was aware that he'd been filmed. If he'd known, he would have been too self conscious, too nervous. But this was what was inside of him, the potential that lurked just beneath the surface. It only needed brought to the fore.

Excitement began to bubble inside of me. I felt inspired in a way that I hadn't for years. _I_ could bring it out from him. Perhaps he'd known that already, and it was why he'd asked me to coach him. Was this what he thought we could do together? If so, then I didn't want to wait a single moment longer.

I packed up my apartment that afternoon and told Yakov of my plans. He was disapproving, of course, but I hadn't expected anything less. How could I explain to him that the success he'd helped me achieve had become a shackle that held me back? That I needed to find something more if I was to continue on? He wouldn't understand, so I didn't try to explain.

I was on a flight to Japan by that night, and after ten hours in the air, I set foot on the soil of Yuuri's home country. I didn't even pause to take in my surroundings. I took a taxi directly to Hasetsu and found the resort that Yuuri's family owns. Despite my initial hope, I didn't catch sight of the man himself as I checked in. Still, there would be time enough for that. The hot springs that had been spoken of so highly seemed to call to me, and as soon as I had stowed my things, I made my way there. Makkachin wandered off – in search of food, no doubt – and I stripped down to nothing.

The first touch of my skin to the hot water was heaven. It encased my foot, my calf, swirled around my knees. I sank deeper, groaning aloud in bliss. It was _wonderful_. There were warm towels off to the side, and I laid one across my head to hold in the heat while I relaxed. Every single ache and strain melted away. How did Yuuri not spend his every waking moment in the water?

As if my thoughts had summoned him, there was a commotion from the inner bath rooms. Then, the door slammed open and Yuuri skidded to a halt.

"Victor!" His eyes were wide behind his glasses, mouth open in shock. "Why are you here?" His voice was little more than a whisper. I smothered my smirk and rose from the water, totally unashamed of my nudity.

"Hello, Yuuri. Starting today, I'm going to be your new coach." Was it my imagination, or had his gaze dipped down my body and then back up? "You're going to get to the Grand Prix Final, and you're going to win." I winked at him, unable to prevent myself from flirting. He gasped, then yelled unintelligibly. I took that as a good sign.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Lots to cover in this episode! Enjoy!**_

I had intended on soaking longer in the spring – perhaps enticing Yuuri to join me – but just then my stomach rumbled loudly.

"Perhaps you might be so kind as to tell me where I could find some food? I seem to have forgotten to eat for the last day or so."

"F-food? Yes! Sure, I mean. We just need to go to the kitchen-"

I started to make my way across the spring towards him and he covered his eyes with both hands, a vivid blush staining his cheeks. "Lovely. I don't suppose there is a set of clothes or perhaps a _khalat_ , I mean-" I mimed a tying motion to indicate a robe. "I've been in those clothes for far too long, and all my things are still packed." I looked at the offensive garments sadly. Yuuri peeked from between his fingers, then squeezed them tight again.

"Yeah, let me just... uh, hold one a minute." He turned, then rushed back into the building. I laughed. Surely a little nudity wasn't that big of a deal for him? I wasn't the only man naked in the resort, after all. And I'd seen him pole dance in only his shorts the first time we'd met in person. Or maybe it was me specifically that he was reacting so strongly to? I could only hope. It would be endless fun provoking him with my body. I was certainly still interested in him physically. It would just be a matter of time finding out if he felt the same.

He returned a moment later with a utilitarian set of clothes in a rather hideous shade of green. "Yours?" I asked with another cheeky grin. His blush, which had never fully abated, came back with a vengeance.

"N-no. My sister's, actually. Her room is closer."

"Too bad," I shrugged and pulled on the bottoms. They were far too short, but I didn't care. The shirt, strangely enough, was much too big. "Now then," I straightened up and smiled, tugging slightly at the sleeve to keep my shoulder from being exposed. "Food?"

"Right! Through here." He led me out of the springs and through the building. In another few minutes I was tucked in at the table and eating ravenously. The woman who'd helped me check in was chattering on amiably, but I was having a harder and harder time following what she was saying. The fact that I hadn't slept at all the day before, combined with the intense jet lag, was finally hitting me full force and making it nearly impossible to keep my eyes open. I kept thinking that she looked very much like Yuuri, in a rounder, more feminine way. It was extremely endearing. His mother, perhaps? A strange stroke of longing went through me and I gave a half laugh that I was sure sounded delirious.

I needed to close my eyes, just for a few minutes. A quick nap would set me to rights, and then Yuuri and I could talk. There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to know about him. But first, I needed at least a little sleep...

I stirred, consciousness flitting around me little by little. Makkachin was curled up next to me and I snuggled him tighter, clinging stubbornly to sleep. Then, the sound that had awoken me came again. It was familiar and exciting, and tugged somewhere low in my belly. Yuuri's voice. I sneezed and sat up.

"Is there any more food around here? I'm still hungry." My stomach growled as if to accentuate my point. Yuuri gestured wildly.

"Sure, we've got lots of food! What would you like?"

His eagerness to please me was adorable. "What's your favorite food, Yuuri? If I'm going to be your coach, that's something I ought to know, don't you think?" He blushed again, and I barely held back my chuckle. Even flirting with him innocently was so much fun.

"Hold on, I'll go see if my mom's got any ready." He got up and I looked him over. It had been obvious in the video I'd seen of him that he wasn't in peak condition. Up close, it was easy to tell that he'd put on some weight since the Grand Prix. It wasn't as though he was fat, but competitive skating is gruelingly intense. Even the five to ten extra pounds I suspected he was carrying would be damaging to his ability and stamina. They were likely from stress or depression considering his recent losses, and I would have to snap him out of it before we began training.

The younger woman who was sitting at the table – what was her name again? - noticed my perusal of Yuuri's body, but only smirked. I wondered briefly if there was anything between her and Yuuri. She was beautiful enough, certainly. Looked to be about his age, as well. Hm, that could be trouble. I wanted to explore the connection between Yuuri and I more, but I wasn't willing to interfere with a relationship if he already had one.

Before I could think on it more, Yuuri's mother set down a steaming bowl of food. The smell hit me first and my mouth watered. "This looks amazing!"

"This is our specialty, _katsudon,_ the pork cutlet bowl."

I deftly maneuvered the chopsticks they'd provided and lifted a strip of cutlet to my mouth. _Perfection_. "Really, there are no words," I said between stuffing bites into my mouth. "This must be what God eats like!" It was juicy and hot, flavorful and savory. I was in love.

"Glad you like it so much," Yuuri said almost bashfully.

"The rule was," the woman – really, what _was_ her name? - smirked, "he could only eat one when he won a competition, because he gains weight so easily."

"Oh really?" That explained a lot. The meal had to have been loaded with calories. If Yuuri was chowing down on them regularly, it would be impossible to get him back into shape. "Tell me, have you had a pork cutlet bowl recently?"

"Sure, they're my favorite, so I eat them all the time."

Ah, there it was. That wouldn't do at all. There was no way I could let him endanger his career over a few pounds, so I had no problem being brutal. I smiled. "Oh yeah? But you haven't won anything, have you?" He cringed. "There's not a lot I can do with you until you lose that piggy gut and work off those love handles. You need to get back to your weight at last year's Grand Prix Final, at the least... or I can't coach you. So why don't you lay off the pork cutlet bowls, okay little piggy?" I smiled to soften my harsh words. Subtlety and comfort weren't really my forte.

He reeled back. "I feel like I should be insulted..."

Before I could say something somewhat more encouraging, a woman in an outfit that looked remarkably similar to the one I wore except in red, stepped in. "Hey, Yuuri, what's up with all these boxes?" I studied her face; she looked vaguely similar to Yuuri. His sister perhaps? That would explain the outfit. I waved at her, then turned to Yuuri.

"Think you can take them to the room where I'll be staying?"

Yuuri's jaw dropped; he gaped at me. "Say what, now?"

"You didn't think I could coach you from Russia, did you? I'll be staying here until the season so we can work every day. You'll need it." I grinned at him. "There are lots of boxes, but it'll be a good work out for you, no?"

Yuuri dutifully carted all my boxes up the stairs and into the small room where I had been put up. By the time he was done, he was huffing and puffing. Definitely out of shape. It would take more than just a stricter diet to get him back on track. I stretched, looking around. "What an incredibly adorable little room. Is there a sofa?" Makkachin trotted around, sniffing the corners.

"No, sorry. I know it's really small, but it's the only room we had available." He looked up at me from where he was getting his breath back on the floor.

"I'll make it work, don't you worry." I winked at him, hands on my hips. Really, it was already far more cozy than my lonely flat in St Petersburg. "Oh, and we can defer my coaching fee for now. I'll bill you once you've won something."

"O-okay, thank you?" He seemed startled by the offer. Honestly, I had no idea how to handle the coaching fee so I was just putting it off. I knew in general what coaches charged, since I'd worked with several over my career. But this wasn't a typical situation, and I wasn't doing it for the money at all. It wasn't as though I was hurting for it, and while Yuuri's family seemed well enough off to support him, I wasn't entirely comfortable taking money from them.

I pushed the topic of money from my mind and turned back to more pleasurable tasks. Like getting to know the man on the floor at my feet. I knelt in front of him, reaching my hand out to cup his chin. "I want to know everything about you, Yuuri. Like what kind of rink you skate at, and what hobbies you have, if there's a girl you like." I thought of the woman downstairs. _Please let there not be._ My other hand slid down to rest on his. "Let's get to know each other. A relationship like this should be built on trust, don't you think?"

He blinked up at me, those impossibly wide eyes seeming half amazed and half terrified. A flush stained his cheeks. Perhaps I was flirting a little too obviously. He shot backwards until he hit the wall behind him. "What's wrong? Why'd you run away?" So skittish over a simple touch? I'd been laying it on a bit thick, maybe, but not _that_ thick. It wasn't like I'd pinned him down and tried to mount him.

"Uh, I had a leg cramp."

Well, that was an obvious lie. I stifled my smirk. How could this be the same man who'd rubbed himself so provocatively against me at the banquet last year? That had led me through the most passionate tango of my life? Was he still embarrassed by that? It was possible that he thought because of the way he'd acted the last time we met, I would be aggressive about pursuing something more with him. I decided to ease off a bit.

"I've- uh, got to go check on something." He was up like a shot and then down the hall. He slid open a door not far from mine and then slammed it shut. I sighed. Skittish indeed. Still, there wasn't any rush. I started to unpack, thinking of ways I could ease him into the kind of closeness I wanted us to have.

Half an hour later, I grabbed my pillow and went to his door. "Yurri, let's have a slumber party!" Makkachin wagged his tail beside me. "Come on, open up. It's a perfect way for us to learn more about each other." No response. "Yurri!"

"Nooooo," came a wail from the other side of the door, followed by sounds of furious movement. Paper rustling? What was he doing? "I- uh, I can't! Maybe another night." He didn't even open the door. What in the world was going on?

"If you insist," I said with a sigh, turning back to my own room. Why was he suddenly treating me like a stranger? It was as if the night of the banquet had never happened at all. I slipped under my blankets and opened the photo album on my phone. The pictures were still there, proof that I hadn't just imagined the whole affair. Yurri had been brazen, seducing me with his body and spirit, making no secret of what he wanted from me. So what had changed?

Feeling forlorn about it wasn't doing me any good, so I boxed away the hurt. I dropped my phone and closed my eyes, snuggling Makkachin closer. There would be plenty of time to unravel the mystery of Yuuri in the morning.

I woke early the next morning, refreshed and eager to start the day. Training needed to begin immediately. I would put Yuuri through a work out, both as a way to gauge his current fitness as well as trying to break down the barriers he seemed to have erected around himself. I pulled on my training clothes and padded down the hall to his room.

"Yuuri, wake up!" No answer. I knocked again. "Yuuri, wake up, or I'm coming in." A slight rustle. "Alright, I'm coming in, it's time to-" there was more of that same furious rustling from the night before, then the door cracked open just enough for Yuuri to slip through and slam shut behind him. He looked still half asleep, eyes bleary, hair mussed, cheeks flushed. It was almost as if he didn't want me to see inside his room. What could he possibly be hiding in there? Before I could get too curious, I caught sight of the shirt he was wearing. It was faded and worn from obvious age and use, and _my name_ was emblazoned across the front of it, inside a heart. I grinned. How was it possible for him to get any more endearing?

"I'm up, I'm up," he insisted. Clearly, he had no idea what he was wearing.

"Why don't you show me the rink you skate in this morning? We can start your work out on the way." I still couldn't stop grinning.

"Uh, yeah. Of course. Just let me cha-" he glanced down at his pajamas and his entire face turned bright crimson. He spun on his heel and dashed back into his room, slamming the door behind him again. " _Shit!"_ came the epithet from within.

I laughed and headed down to breakfast.

I made him jog the whole way to the rink, then showed him the choreography I'd been working on that I thought might suit him. Of course, it had been designed with him in mind, but as an observer rather than the skater. Still, who better to perform the story of him seducing me than the man himself?

The family that ran the rink seemed very nice – even if the triplets were almost startlingly enthusiastic – and it was easy to see that Yuuri had a solid support system in place. So why had he gone into self destruct mode after the last Grand Prix?

I led him through a solid work out, and even had Minako ( _Minako Minako Minako_ , I repeated to myself. They looked close, I would need to remember her name from then on) run through a routine with him in her studio. Watching them, I was reminded yet again that I had no real idea of what Yuuri was looking for in a partner. Despite his rather provocative performance at the banquet, he might prefer women. Or maybe this one woman in particular.

I tried to sound casual when I asked later, "So, do you have feelings for Minako?" It was slightly gratifying when he stopped doing jumps and waved his hands emphatically.

"No! No way!"

Well that was a relief. "Do you have a lover now?"

"No..." He answered warily. I was even more relieved. Things were starting to look up.

"What about ex-lovers?"

"I'd rather not talk about it-"

So closed off. Maybe he would be more comfortable if I shared first... "Then let's talk about me; let's see, my first lover was-"

He made a strangled sound and fell back. Was he not willing to discuss the topic with me at all? What would it take to get him to open up to me? I rested my chin in my hands, resigned to more waiting before broaching the topic again.

The rest of the day was spent sight seeing. Not great training, perhaps, but we walked everywhere, so I didn't count the time as a total loss. Besides, it was too easy to excuse the excursion when there was so much interesting history to see. The town was beautiful and Yuuri was an excellent guide.

By the time we got back to the house, it was nearly dark. Yuuri's mother had left us dinner ( _katsudon_ for me and a portion of rice and vegetables for him) so we ate together in companionable silence. When we were done, I noticed the small shrine with a plate of buns beside it.

"Who is that for?" I asked. I wasn't very familiar with the custom of setting up shrines, but I knew it had to have been someone important to the family for one to be so close in the house.

"The family dog," Yuuri told me somberly. "He died just before the Grand Prix Final." There was a wealth of deeper meaning in the sentence. I understood at once.

"That explains your performance, then," I whispered. He shrugged.

"Partly. But that wasn't all. Yes, the depression got to me, but the nerves did, too. I think even if Victor hadn't-"

"Victor?" I interrupted, bemused. He blushed. Really, if blushing burned calories, we would have him whipped into shape in no time!

"Um, yeah. He looked like the one you'd had. I read about it in an article when I was a kid, and thought..."

I threw a glance at him over my shoulder as I went closer to the shrine to look at the picture. "He looked just like a miniature version of Alexi!" He even looked very similar to Makkachin, but that was perhaps because he and Alexi were the same breed of poodle. Yuuri had gotten a dog the same kind as mine, and named it Victor. He'd come out of his room that morning wearing an obviously well loved shirt with my name on it.

Despite the seriousness of the conversation we were having, I felt ridiculously pleased with myself. Apparently, Yuuri was a fan of mine. Well, now the feeling was entirely mutual. I forced back my smile and tried to look appropriately somber. "I'm sure he was a good dog. You must have loved him very much."

"I did." He looked relieved that I wasn't pushing him to explain the name. We rose from the table, and I slung my arm over his shoulder.

"Let's have a sleep over, Yuuri. You can tell me all about him."

"O-okay," he agreed hesitantly. We made our way up the stairs and into his room. I studied what I could see in the dim light. Here and there I noticed little corners of bright paper held to the walls with tacks. Clearly, there had been posters all over his room until recently. They had been removed in great haste, it seemed. I wondered if I was being too arrogant to assume they were of me, and that had been the rustling the night before. I grinned, liking the idea more and more.

The next night, I talked Yuuri into another sleep over. He still seemed uneasy about the idea, but I knew I was making progress when he didn't immediately pull the blankets up over his head when I walked in. Granted, he still covered his eyes eyes like a blushing virgin when I changed into my- _wait_. I looked over at him again, wondering if maybe... Well _that_ would need further investigation.

"Tell me about your family," I asked him once I was settled beneath my blankets. They loved and supported him, that much was clear. Still, Yuuri seemed to have trouble accepting that love.

"Oh, they're great," he replied easily. "Mom and dad took over running the resort when my grandfather retired. They've lived here their whole lives. Mari, she's three years older than me. Pretty laid back, as far as big sisters go. I'm really lucky to have them."

"Indeed you are. I'm surprised you're so unsure of yourself considering you've always had such a supportive family."

"Oh, well-" he paused, fidgeted beneath the blanket. "I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. But they would root for me even if I was awful, you know? They love me unconditionally, which is amazing and I wouldn't trade it for the world... but it means that I can't really count on them to be hard on me when it calls for it."

"Like your mother continuing to cook _katsudon_ for her little piggy even though it's no good for your figure?"

He laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

"You don't believe them when they tell you that you are good," I added. His face grew serious again.

"Its not that I don't think _they_ believe it. But there are so many fantastic skaters. Just look at you-"

"Me?"

"Don't be obtuse. You're a figure skating legend. Every kid that's ever wanted to skate seriously idolizes you."

"Including you?" I sat up on my elbow and grinned at him. He blushed furiously, then pulled the blanket up over his head.

"You know I do," came the mumbled reply. I reached over and tugged the blanket down so I could see his face again. His glasses were off, so I was met with wide, brown eyes. Suddenly, I felt my own face begin to flush a bit.

"I'm only human, just like you," I whispered. I ran my hand down his cheek and cupped his chin. "I wish you would see me as a man, and not a legend."

His pupils dilated and he sucked in a breath between his teeth. Really, as much as I'd been enthralled by the sexual, assertive man who'd swept me off my feet – almost literally – at the banquet, this quiet, reserved man was almost more alluring. He seemed so innocent, so guileless. Half of me wanted to shelter and preserve that innocence. The other half of me wanted nothing more than to crawl under his blanket and spend the rest of the night despoiling him.

But no, that could wait. There was no pressure, no rush. I wanted to learn everything there was to know about him, savor him slowly. In time, I would explore all that he had to offer and more. But just then, his companionship was enough.

We trained the rest of the week. Yuuri was no quitter, that much was plain to see. He worked hard, even harder than I pushed him. The excess weight he'd put on seemed to melt off. As I watched, muscles that had atrophied after months of near disuse began to grow taut once more. His cheeks lost their roundness, his abdominal muscles grew more defined, and _o Bozhe_ , his rear end became so firm I was sure I could bounce a coin off of it.

We were nearing the end of our first week together when he dropped back to the weight he'd been at last year's Grand Prix. The same day I could have finally started really working with him on the ice, Yuri showed up from Russia to hold me to the promise I'd forgotten I'd even made to him. He demanded I got back to Russia with him and choreograph his short program. Of course, I had no intention at all of leaving. But I did want to make good on my promise to him...

And then the answer hit me. I could make programs for both of them. The set I'd been working on for myself before I'd decided to take off to coach had two different arrangements anyway. Each of them were perfectly suited for one approach. It would be easy. And just to make sure they both gave it their all, I promised to do whatever the winner wanted. The sexual subtext in that seemed lost on them. For Yuri, that was a good thing. For Yuuri, I was somewhat disappointed. Ah, well. It had been a long shot.

One of the best things about Yuri showing up unannounced was Mari's brilliant idea to nickname him Yurio to avoid confusion between the two Yuris. Yurio claimed he hated it, but I could tell that deep down, he was happy to have a nick name. He protested far too much to really dislike it.

The night after Yurio's arrival, Yuri disappeared from the resort. I spent nearly an hour tracking him down, talking to the people who knew him best and listening to what they could tell me about him. There were so many facets of him, pieces that made him up as a whole. Each time I thought I was getting to the heart of him, another new bit of information would come along and reveal greater depths.

I wanted to go to him that night after we walked back to the resort together. I wanted to sleep in his room again, to talk to him in the darkest hours of the night, when he might be more willing to open up to me. But with Yurio expecting us bright and early the next morning, I didn't dare.

As I'd known he would be, Yurio rose with the sun and wanted to head to the rink right away. I had the two of them jog along behind me while I rode at a leisurely pace to the rink. Despite the interruption in my alone time with Yuuri, it was fun having the two of them together. When I had them listen to the music that the programs were set to, they both seemed to immediately gravitate to opposite ones. It was incredibly satisfying seeing their faces when I told them they would skate to the music the other had picked.

Yurio demanded, not unsurprisingly, that if he won the competition, I return to Russia with him. I felt a small amount of trepidation as I agreed to his terms. I had no intention at all of leaving Yuuri's side, and I didn't want to outright lie. Then again, I had little doubt that Yuuri would win. Despite the slump he'd been in for the last year, I could tell that something in him had clicked into place when I'd arrived. He was ready to skate with everything inside him. He was ready to win. I agreed to Yurio's terms, then turned to Yuuri.

"Well, what do you want from me? If you win, what is your reward?"

He was quiet for a moment. "T-to eat with you. Pork cutlet bowls."

My breath caught. Even Yurio gasped. _That_ was all he would ask of me? To join him in his old tradition of having _katsudon_ after a win? Didn't he know that I would do that anyway? He could have asked me for anything, but what he wanted was to share a meal with me. My heart fluttered in my chest. Really, I was already well on my way to being utterly lost for him. "I want to keep on winning and keep on eating pork cutlet bowls. So I'll skate to Eros, and I'll give it all the Eros I've got in me!"

His earnestness made me smile. He really would give it everything he had. Despite my growing suspicion that he had no personal experience with Eros, I knew that it would be a performance to remember.

"That's what I like to hear."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Quick note: most of the lines taken directly from the show are the Dub version, but some of them are from the Sub if that seemed to fit the scene better. So if you watched one version or the other of the show and the lines don't seem to match up, that's why : )**_

The next day, I showed Yuuri and Yurio their routines. _Agape_ , Yurio's program, was intense and would rank high points, but it would be flat without inspiration of the feeling itself. I knew Yurio had trouble accepting selfless love – a fact that had sprouted from his father's abandonment and his mother's apathy, no doubt. If I could get him to acknowledge that pure love did exist, and that there were those that felt that way about him, then he would really be able to bring the routine to life.

When I finished, I moved onto _Eros_ , the program I'd choreographed for Yuuri. Originally, I had been inspired by his dance with me at the banquet that night. The story of the playboy who sweeps into town and seduces the most beautiful lady (vain creature that I am) and then runs off into the night. I never would have guessed, though, that a year later I would be teaching the steps to _him._ Life had brought me full circle, in a fashion. All I needed to do was bring the Yuuri from that night out onto the ice, and he would own the rink like no one before.

As we talked about what jumps he could land, I glided closer to him. He was watching me intently, as if I was the only thing of importance in the whole world. His lips were slightly parted, chest rising and falling steadily. I brought my hand up and ran my thumb over the furl of his lower lip.

"Unleash the Eros within you," I whispered to him, bringing my face close to his. Close enough that one little move is all it would have taken to kiss him. "Maybe no one's seen it before, but I know its there, smoldering deep down inside you, waiting for its chance to come out. Can you show it to me?" I lowered my head the slightest bit more. I could feel his breath against my cheek. He trembled. "Can you do that?"

Before he could reply, Yurio yelled at us, shattering the moment. Insolent brat. It was a good thing I was fond of him, or I would have been upset about him distracting me. But there was no way to recapture the moment, so I glided away, telling Yuuri I wanted him to think about what Eros meant to him. No, he hadn't had a lover yet, but there had been one night in particular that he'd shown plenty of sexual affection. Surely that would be the place he chose to draw his Eros from. And when he brought it up, I could express to him how _I_ felt about that night...

I put them both through grueling training exercises that afternoon, and by evening, we were all grateful to soak in the hot springs. I would have liked to use it as an excuse to get close to Yuuri again, but under Yurio's watchful (and underage) eye, that was impossible. After, when we were eating dinner, Yuuri suddenly sat bolt upright and waved his arms.

"Pork cutlet bowls! That's it! That's what Eros is to me!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he looked mortified. "I'm an idiot. I take it back."

 _Katsudon_? That's what inspired sexual love in him? We were definitely going to need to do something about his views on desire and seduction. But for the moment, I tried not to let my shock show. "It's okay," I assured him. "We can go with that..." It wasn't my first choice, but if that was what he wanted, then we would make it work.

The days started to blend together as we trained practically nonstop. Yuuri was more than capable of preforming the routine, but still, something was missing. No matter how much I prodded him, or how blatant I was in my innuendo, he still couldn't seem to grasp the Eros.

If not for the looks of longing he threw my way when he thought I couldn't see, I would have thought he had become entirely asexual...

Two days before the competition, I sent Yuuri and Yurio to the waterfall after training. It was supposed to be a mental exercise, as well as letting the pounding water work out cramped muscles. As soon as I saw Yuuri standing under the spray, I knew I needed to leave if there was any hope of me not dragging him to the rocks and _showing_ him Eros.

I went to go have dinner alone (some Ramen place Mari had suggested to me, which was _fantastic_ ) and had a few drinks as I contemplated my future with Yuuri. Why was I getting so desperate with him? With my history, I'd never felt the need to rush into physical love, despite my forward and somewhat suggestive personality. The idea of pushing Yuuri into something he wasn't ready for was abhorrent to me. So why had I felt so out of control at the waterfall?

More drinks followed after I finished my dinner. I smiled and chatted with other patrons, all the while wondering what was wrong with me. And then all of a sudden, I realized that I was jealous. Of a _pork cutlet bowl_. What was my life coming to? But it wasn't the food itself that was the problem. It was the fact that the man I was falling harder and harder for every day needed to think of his favorite meal in order to imagine sexual longing, when I was right beside him nearly every moment.

Was he not attracted to me? His behavior at the banquet suggested strongly otherwise, but I was beginning to think that one night had been a total fluke. Never since then had he ever been aggressive or purposely sensual with me. Or worse, maybe he'd been attracted to the _idea_ of me, and once he'd spent time with me, the reality hadn't lived up to his expectation.

That thought called for another drink.

Still, I tried not to dwell on it. It wasn't as though I didn't think he was interested in me at _all_ any longer. His speech when I'd asked him what he wanted if he won had made that clear. He wanted me with him. But in what capacity? I needed to sit him down and ask him outright at some point. Subtlety and flirting are well and good, but there comes a time when straight answers are better. And I wanted to know, without a doubt, whether or not Yuuri was interested in me romantically.

The competition went nearly as I'd expected it would. Yurio skated beautifully, nearly enough to make me wonder if I would have to go back on my promise to go back to Russia if he won (which admittedly, I'd forgotten about). But when Yuuri stepped onto the ice, I knew that there would be no contest. My chest was still warm from his sudden hug. _You'll watch, will you?_ How could he doubt it? When I'd told him I loved pork cutlet bowls, there had been a wealth of innuendo in my words. I could only hope he'd understood it.


	4. Chapter 4

Yurio returned to Russia that night, leaving me and Yuuri to train alone once more. The next morning, as I stood in the rink waiting for him to show up, I thought about where things stood between us. I wanted to keep a clear line between our personal relationship (however slowly it was developing) and our professional one. The trouble was that my feelings for him didn't just turn off when we stepped onto the ice. If anything, they intensified. It didn't help that I was trying to train him to skate a seduction. Still, I didn't want my feelings for him, and whatever feelings he might have for me, to interfere with his coaching.

When he dashed in half an hour late, I ignored completely (mostly... alright, barely) the sexual thrill of him on his knees in front of me. Instead, I replied cheerfully and got us started on his training.

The whole next week was a whirlwind. I thoroughly enjoyed working with Yuuri on the ice, but my favorite part of our days together was soaking in the spring each evening. The fact that we were both naked had very little to do with it. Okay, it did have _something_ to do with it, but really, it was more about relaxing with Yuuri, unwinding after a grueling day, getting him to open up to me.

More than once we'd scandalized the others at the spring by stretching after getting out of the water. I was certain that by then everyone assumed the most titillating things about us. And that suited me just fine.

Despite our continuous work, Yuuri still seemed to have trouble finding his Eros. He trained harder than anyone I'd ever seen before, but there was still something missing. Not only that, but I wanted him to think about the music for his free skate, and he was coming up blank for that too.

"Find something that inspires you. It could even be a memory," I suggested. "Like when a girl said she loved you." _Or a boy..._

" _What?!"_ he yelled. He glared at me, then froze. I could only blink. Then his hands came up and he was waving them frantically. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to snap at you! I'm just really stressed right now."

"No, it's my fault," I assured him. "I forgot you never had a lover." _As if I could forget_. Still, I shouldn't have provoked him. But both his reaction as well as his lack of denial told me that my assumption was right. It didn't explain the night of the banquet, but it did explain a lot about his reactions to me. He really was as innocent as he appeared. It was no wonder he was having trouble with Eros. It was something I would have to give more thought to and perhaps change my approach. Both with the program, and with the man himself.

After lunch, he was working on his step sequence when we started talking about his costume. I thought perhaps he should have a new one made for the real competitions. Not only was it incredibly distracting to see him encased in skin tight black material, but I didn't want him to feel like he was imitating me or somehow below me because the one he'd worn during Hotsprings on Ice was an old one of mine. He disagreed strongly and wanted to keep wearing it.

We bickered back and forth, our arguments getting more and more ridiculous, until I leaned against the edge of the rink and declared, "don't wear a costume at all then!"

"What?"

"We can't decide, so just go out naked." I flopped my whole upper body down dramatically.

He stopped skating and leaned against the other side of the railing from where I stood, trying to catch his breath and looking at me as if I had gone crazy. "Who would want to see _me_ naked on the ice?"

I perked up right away. I couldn't help my grin. "At the very least, I would."

He gaped at me, cheeks flushed – though that was at least partly from exertion – and eyes wide.

"What?" I asked, casually. Considering he'd never been in a relationship before, it was likely that he hadn't even known my earlier attempts were flirting. Surely this would leave no doubt. He shook his head as if to clear it.

"N-nothing. I just thought you meant that seriously for a second." He straighten and his face became set.

What would it take to get it through to him? "Yuuri, I _did_ -"

"I'm keeping that costume, and that's that." His tone left no argument.

This time, it was my turn to be surprised. Yuuri was so rarely assertive. Certainly he'd never before been so determined to go against my advice. Why was keeping that costume so important to him? Instead of asking him outright, I took off my blade covers and walked onto the ice. When I was next to him, I took his hand and pulled him gently toward me. We glided a little, then I turned. He turned with me. The music for the short program was playing on repeat, so we moved to the rhythm, but casually, easily. At one point, I took his other hand as well and led him back against my chest. Effortlessly, we slid across the ice in perfect symphony. _If only there was a men's pair skate..._

"Tell me what you thought of when you first saw me skate in that costume," I murmured in his ear.

"Beautiful," he replied instantly, half dazed by our dance. "I thought you looked so beautiful, and you moved even more so." We spun out together, then I drew him close again.

"And how do you feel wearing it?"

"Like..." he looked up at me, a hazy look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. "Like anything is possible. Like I might be able to make you see me the same way."

My breath caught. I slowed us to a stand still, then cupped his chin in one hand while I wrapped the other around his back and pulled him against me. "Yuuri. Have you not guessed that I already do?"

He seemed surprised, almost startled. But he didn't pull away. The tip of his tongue touched his lower lip, and I desperately wanted to kiss him. Even if it was only briefly, softly... I leaned closer.

The music screeched, then stopped. "Oh, sorry guys, the girls got a hold of the sound system. I'll get the music back on in just a second." The feminine voice through the speaker broke the spell we were under and Yuuri backed out of my hold immediately. I cursed internally. Why couldn't that interruption have come five seconds earlier or five seconds later?

The song resumed and Yuuri began to go through the program again. We didn't speak any more about the costume, but we both knew he'd won the argument.

That night, I tried to get him to go out to dinner with me. He refused. Back at the resort, I asked him if he wanted to soak in the spring with me. Again, he refused. When the evening came to a close, I caught him on his way to bed. I suggested a slumber party, like the ones we'd had before Yurio had come. He barely even acknowledged me. I went back to my room, wondering if that almost-kiss had ruined the rapport we'd developed. Maybe I had read everything all wrong and now he felt uncomfortable with me. What would I do then?

The next morning I rose early and went to the rink to wait for him to join me. I was determined to be strictly professional. No flirting, no innuendo, no casual touches. But he didn't show up. He'd been late before from oversleeping, but I didn't think that was the case this time. I took off my skates and rode back to the resort slowly, thinking of what I should do next.

Maybe it was time to clear the air between us. Lay my cards on the table and find out what he really wanted.

I strode purposefully down the hall to his room and slid open the door without bothering to knock. He jumped out of bed guiltily. "Let's skip practice today," I said with a smile. "We can go down to the ocean."

I half expected him to balk at the idea, but he rose and dressed. We walked silently down to the beach and then sat beside the water, Makkachin between us. I told him about missing the sea back home, and he opened up to me about his doubts. Again I wondered how it was possible for him to think so little of himself.

"You aren't a weak person, Yuuri. Nobody who knows you would ever think that." He said nothing, so I went on. "Will you tell me, what is it you want me to be to you?" I kept my eyes on the water, afraid I would give away my own desires if I was looking at him. "A father figure?"

"No."

"A brother, or just a friend?" He didn't reply with words, but he made a growling sound of frustration. That narrowed things down considerably. I made a gamble. "So then your lover. I'll try my best."

He shot up as if he'd been electrocuted. He was shaking his head and waving his arms frantically. "No no no!" Well _that_ wasn't good for my ego. I tried to stifle my disappointment. "All I want is for you to be who you are."

Suddenly, my chest felt tight. I'd wanted clarity, but instead, Yuuri had once again turned my world on its end. No one had ever only wanted me as I was. They wanted the skating prodigy, the gold medalist, the world champion. Not just Victor Nikiforov, the flawed man. I'd thought that the best possible outcome would be for him to say he wanted me as a lover. How wrong I'd been. Somehow, he continued to show me that there was more to him. More to what could be between us. "I look up to you," he went on. "I always have. I was afraid to let you see my shortcomings. I guess that's why I was avoiding you. I'll make it up to you by skating my best."

After a pause, I rose and held my hand out to him. "You have a deal." I thought about his family, the unconditional love they showed him, and how it made him believe that he couldn't trust their judgment of his skating. He needed to know that despite my own feelings for him, he wouldn't have to worry about that with me. "And I won't let you off easy. That's my way of showing my love." His hand slid into mine and held there. It wasn't perfect clarity, but it was something better.

The next day, Yuuri seemed to have a new fire within him. He was making good on his promise to skate his best. He'd asked me to teach him all of my moves, and we spent the morning going over all the jumps I knew. I was again reminded that he had incredible stamina. This time, I was too exhausted to even think about the sexual implications of that.

After a mortifying moment when he noticed my greatest vanity – _Bhoze_ , had I really gotten so old that I was starting to get a bald spot? - we rounded out the afternoon with more work on jumps and spins.

I collapsed into bed that night, utterly spent. It seemed that my eyes had barely closed when I heard my door being opened hastily and Yuuri came dashing in the room. Makkachin got stepped on somewhere along the way, but after a moment, Yuuri was settled onto the bed and had put earbuds in my ears. I listened intently, hoping against hope that this one would be more fitting than the last one.

The music started slowly, then began to change. Just like Yuuri himself had. It was beautiful. It was _perfect_. I nodded and smiled. "This is exactly what you should skate to," I told him once I'd pulled the earphones out. He nearly vibrated with excitement. I shifted to the side so that he could stretch out beside me.

"You really think so?"

"I do. But more importantly, do _you_ think so?"

"Yes!" he replied emphatically. I smiled again. There was the excitement I was looking for. We stayed up late discussing the choreography he would use for the program. In the wee hours of the morning, he fell asleep, head pillowed on my bicep. I wanted nothing more than to stay awake and watch over him, to take in every moment of it, but my own eyes were so heavy that I succumbed to sleep only moments later.

Two days later, the event schedule came out, and Yuuri's entire extended skating family was abuzz with the news. They explained to me that he would need to go through national competitions before qualifying, though, because of his losses the previous season. I could already see the pressure beginning to hit him (and his family's talk about the skating world hating him for taking me from competing didn't help) so I decided that we needed to take some time off before facing it.

The next day I packed us a bag and we went down to the beach again. It had warmed up considerably since I'd arrived in Japan, and the weather was perfect for swimming. Yuuri balked at first, but then I picked him up and tossed him in the water. He came up sputtering and laughing, then tackled me into the water as well.

We wrestled, seeing who could dunk the other more, splashing and playing like children. And perhaps we both needed it. In careers like ours, there's little chance for frivolity or idle play. For most skaters, training is the main focus of their lives. Everything else is put on the back burner. Even finishing college, like Yuuri and I did, is uncommon.

It was refreshing to see him so lighthearted. To see his smile come so easily. When we finished swimming, we rinsed off under the fresh water spigot, Makkachin dancing and barking around us. I tried to spray him and he pushed my head under the shower. After a few moments, we were nearly hugging under the water, bodies slick and pressed close together. The laughter we had been sharing faded from one moment to the next, and then we were staring at each other, tension thick between us.

Yuuri stared up at me, his dark lashes spiky with water. I watched the line of his throat as he swallowed thickly, his adam's apple bobbing down and then back up. My eyes trailed lower, across his chest and down to the band of his swimming shorts. _Not good._ I jerked my gaze back up and pulled back a little before he could feel the evidence of my body's reaction to such close proximity with him. I wasn't ashamed of it by any means, but I didn't think he was ready to even begin thinking of things in those terms yet.

I'd already scared him more than once. I didn't have any intention to do it again. I would go slow, give him time to adjust, to open himself up to the idea. And until then, I would be happy with what was already between us.

June passed far too quickly, and then July slipped through my fingers as well. Yuuri was incredibly driven in his training. Nearly every free moment he had was spent either on the ice or pushing his body to its limits. More than once, I'd walked into the locker room at the rink to find him bandaging his bloody feet. The gruesome sight wasn't one I was unfamiliar with, after all, my own had looked like that often enough, but still I hated to see it. I began demanding that he let me doctor him so that I could at least feel like I was helping in some way.

There were other injuries, too, all relatively small but still enough to grate on me. Bruises from falling on the ice too many times, strains and sprains, even a cut on his hand that required stitches after he'd slipped holding his blade in a toe grab. I'd bought him a new pair of gloves to replace the torn and bloody pair that had been his favorites.

Often, I would ask him for a sleepover, or we would fall asleep together talking. I tried to minimize the physical contact between us on those nights because I wanted us to get to know each other more, to ease into anything further, but it was hard to keep my hands off of him. Despite my flirtatious personality with my fans and friends, I'd never considered myself a tactile person until Yuuri. I didn't feel the need to hug and hold and touch any of the other people in my life nearly the way I did with Yuuri.

At first, he'd been nearly paralyzed when I would touch him. After a while, though, he seemed to anticipate and even look forward to me having my hands on him in one way or another. I took that as a good sign that things were moving in the right direction with us.

That summer was one of the best of my life, up to that point. I'd lived alone for more than a decade, and it was refreshing to spend so much time with a family. Especially one as loving as Yuuri's. Not just his blood relatives, though they were wonderful, but his skating family, too. Yakov and Chris were probably the closest thing I had to family, and even they were mostly connected to me by the sport. Yurio had started to get close to me in his own gruff and bratty way, but though I saw him as a kindred spirit with our similar backgrounds, there was still a huge distance between us.

The kind of family Yuuri had was yet another thing that my success had robbed me of. Not that it had anything to do with the death of my parents, but as I'd won more and more, other skaters had shied away from me. Winning in the junior division, setting world records, had turned several of my rink mates against me. Some were jealous, some were upset, some were uncomfortable. It was a lonely existence. Alexi, my beloved poodle before Makkachin, had helped fill the hole in my life, but there was only so much a dog could do.

Yuuri had everything I'd ever dreamed of as a lonely child skating to win the affection of the world. If not for the fact that he loved and appreciated his family greatly, it would have been easy to resent him. Instead, I found myself looking up to him more for it. Yes, he had self esteem issues and it was hard for him to believe that their high opinion of him was deserved, but he never doubted their love. When we weren't training, he spent time helping out at the resort, cleaning with Mari, cooking with his mother, even tending to the gardens with his father.

They drew me into their close knit circle, accepting me as a fixture in the family. We looked at embarrassing baby pictures of Yuuri, watched videos of him skating as a child, even read some of his old school essays about how much he loved being on the ice. Monako laughed at how often I had figured into those essays, but I found it incredibly flattering.

I had been pouring my heart out through my routines, seeking love and family and a bond. Halfway across the world, my skating had reached Yuuri and he'd been giving me his support and affection for most of his life. I'd gotten what I wanted... all I'd needed to do was find him.

One night in August, Yuuri and I were stepping out of the hot spring and my knee gave out. It wasn't something that happened often, but sometimes in rapid, extreme temperature changes, it would buckle and drop me like a stone. Yuuri was at my side instantly.

"Are you okay?" His gentle hands moved over me, seeking any injury.

"I'm fine," I groaned a little, hating that it would be another few minutes before I could put weight back on the joint. "It's just my knee." Yuuri's fingers found the scar that ran for six inches on the inside of my left knee.

"From your accident when you were twenty," he murmured.

"The very same."

"I didn't know it still bothered you. After you came back the next year, there was never any sign at all-"

"I didn't want there to be. I worked tirelessly to get it to where it had been before, so that no one would even remember I'd had an injury. For a while, it had been my greatest ambition to shock the world by making a comeback and doing so with no lingering effects." I smiled at the memory. They had all been shocked, indeed.

"Everyone thought you were gong to retire."

"Perhaps other skaters would have. But I refused to do what they expected. When I retire, it's going to be on my own terms."

"I'm glad you didn't," he whispered. I looked up at him, then down to where his hand was still resting gently on my knee. The fact that we were both naked suddenly hit me full force.

"I am too," I grinned. "If you don't mind helping me, I think I should be able to get up now." He held out his hand and I took it so he could pull me to my feet. We managed to get me back to my room with him supporting me under one arm. I realized right away that I didn't really need the help, but I wasn't going to say no to the contact with him.

Once I'd pulled on pajamas, I stretched out on the bed and Yuuri joined me. He asked about the surgeries it had taken to repair the damage to my knee, what kind of physical therapy I'd done, even how I'd worked to strengthen my body again so that I could get back to skating. We talked so much about me that I would have thought I was being rude or boring him except for the smile on his face. His unique, happy smile, the one that wrinkled his nose, and showed off the laugh lines around his eyes. It was a beautiful thing to see.

As September approached, I felt as though Yuuri's personality shifted. The closeness we'd gained over the last months seemed to lessen, despite how hard I worked to maintain it. I could tell that again, the pressure was starting to get to him. When he pulled away from me, I either pulled him back or met him half way. I wasn't going to let something like nerves get in the way of the beautiful thing we were building.


	5. Chapter 5

That first competition should have been easy for a skater of Yuuri's caliber. Especially now that he'd had me to coach him for a while, I expected him to be at least a little more confident. Instead, he was withdrawn, almost sullen.

There was a boy, barely out of junior division, who obviously idolized Yuuri. But he was so wrapped up in his self doubt that Yuuri hardly even acknowledged the boy. I was incredibly frustrated and had no idea how to handle the situation. I wanted to comfort him, to reassure him, but I also wanted to shake him and tell him to snap the hell out of it. When he came back from his warm up, he barely looked at me. I gruffly ordered him to turn around.

He stared at me blankly.

"I said turn around," I demand again. Reluctantly, he did so. I wrapped both arms around him and pulled him back against my chest. His breath caught, whatever he'd been meaning to say died in a stutter on his lips. "Seduce me with everything you have," I whispered to him. Bulbs flashed at us from across the rink as reporters took pictures of us intimately entwined. I ignored them. "If your performance can enthrall me, then you can bring the whole audience to their knees." My lips ghosted against his ear, and I felt him inhale sharply.

He nodded, remaining in my embrace for a moment longer, then pushed away from the edge of the rink and made his way to the center of the ice. The music started, and he threw a seductive look my way. I felt my heart rate kick up a notch.

He flew through the performance, doing well until he got too wrapped up in his thoughts. His score was a personal best, but I knew there was more inside of him. I knew he could do even better.

The next day he was still off balance. When the boy who looked up to him – Minami I remembered – tried to get his attention, Yuuri ignored him completely. I couldn't believe that my soft hearted, kind Yuuri could be so cruel. When he came back from the warm up, I glared at him.

"If you don't have the strength to motivate someone who looks up to you, how can you find the strength to motivate yourself?" I slammed his blade covers down on the edge of the rink. "I'm disappointed in you." Without waiting for his response, I walked away.

I had no doubt that Yuuri wasn't purposely being cold to the younger skater. But his own troubles didn't excuse his behavior. I expected more of him, both as a skater and as a man. Whatever doubts he had about himself, he was good enough to support those who cheered him on. As Minami took the ice, it was obvious he was looking for Yuuri. Just when I thought he would ignore my reprimand completely, he turned back and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Good luck, Minami! Good luck!"

The boy's eyes went wide, then filled with tears. His music started, and he began to skate with an enormous grin on his face. I felt my own lips curl up. His encouragement could use a little practice, but Yuuri was headed in the right direction.

When he came back from stretching and prepared to take the ice, I smoothed his hair back off his forehead.

"Your lips are a little chapped," I said casually, reaching into my pocket to pull out the tin of balm that he didn't really need. I dipped my finger into it, then smoothed it gently across Yuuri's lips. Perhaps I lingered a moment longer than I should have, enjoying the feel of his mouth, the way the tip of my index finger fitted against the cupid's bow of his upper lip. Then, I pulled my hand away reluctantly and hugged him. After a beat, his own arms slid up to embrace me, cupping the back of my neck and keeping me close.

The skater who was on finished his program and left the ice. Yuuri skated out and waited for his music to begin.

I laid in bed that night, thinking about everything that had happened. Yuuri had done well – despite slamming his face into the wall – and I would never forget the feeling of having him skate towards my open arms at full speed. I wasn't surprised he took first place. He was growing as a skater; each time he stepped on the ice, his confidence increased.

The few scant weeks until Yuuri's next competition went by far too quickly. We trained hard, working on making sure he had the jumps in his free skate program down so that there was less chance he would miss them at the Cup of China, even if he got nervous. I wanted to take some of that time to try and get closer to him, but it didn't seem fair to distract him, so I backed off a little. No matter how much I wanted there to be more between us, I wasn't willing to sacrifice his success for it.

When he'd revealed his theme for the season, his family had all cheered and smiled. I wondered, did any of them notice the undercurrent between the two of us? What would they think if they knew that the kind of love I was trying to inspire for myself in Yuuri was Eros instead of Agape?

Still, Yuuri was an adult, and capable of making his own decisions despite enjoying the support of his family. So I tried not to let my excitement show, and instead applauded with the rest of them. The only comment I dared make was about the hideous tie he was wearing. The same one he'd worn at the banquet the year before. All I could see was it wrapped around his forehead like a tribal band as he pulled my hips to his and asked me to be his coach.

Sleep eluded me, and I could only hope that I would be able to rest on the flight to China the following day.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Things are starting to heat up, and will keep heating up from here on out, just FYI )**_

I ended up getting far drunker than I intended after we finished our initial interviews in China. Though usually I can hold my liquor extremely well – I am Russian, after all – between the drunken shrimp and the vodka, I imbibed much more than I should have. The next morning there was a photo of me, apparently naked from the waist up, with my arms seductively around Yuuri. I didn't remember doing anything overly suggestive, but the picture certainly made it look as if there was more going on between us than just a professional relationship.

I didn't mind the implication, after all, if things went the way I wanted, it wouldn't be long before those implication were true. But I did wonder what Yuuri would think. He'd opened up to me, responded to my gentle flirting with some seduction of his own even, but there was still a glaring line that we hadn't crossed.

We stood in the waiting area as his friend Phitchit skated. I moved a little closer to him, not taking my eyes from the viewing screen. "The photo your friend there took, does it bother you?" He jerked a little, surprised at how close I'd gotten. Then, he relaxed back against me.

"Huh? No, it doesn't bother me. Though I don't want people thinking that I was slacking off and getting drunk the night before competition, just in case I blow it."

"You won't blow it," I assured him. Still, I wanted to make sure he knew what people were bound to assume from the picture. He was so innocent, it was possible that he didn't know. "But you're not upset people will think you are involved with your coach?"

I felt him stiffen against me for a moment, then relax again. _Ah_ , so he had known the implication. "Why would I be upset about that? There aren't any rules against it. Besides, you and I know the truth."

"Oh?" I dipped my head down, letting my breath whisper across his neck. "And what truth is that?"

"W-we aren't- I mean, you don't-"

"Don't I?" I asked softly. He turned his head, eyes searching mine.

"You... really?"

His disbelief tore at my heart. Did he really think so little of himself that he couldn't believe it even possible? After all the hints I'd dropped, all the signs I'd given? I pressed my forehead to his. "Really." I felt his pulse racing. "But if being perceived that way is a problem for you, or if you aren't interested-"

"What? No! I mean, yes! I'm trying to say that I am. Interested. I want..." He trailed off, brows drawn together as he tried to articulate it. I chuckled, relieved enough that I could see the humor in the situation. After a moment, he smiled too.

"I can't believe you're only just now realizing it. I've been trying to show you for months."

"M-months? But... you never said anything."

"I was _showing_ you. Did you never wonder why I touch you all the time? Hug you every chance I get, put my arm around you as we walk?"

"I just assumed you were a tactile person." He shrugged and blushed.

I frowned at him. "When have you ever seen me touch anyone else the way I touch you?" His brows drew together as he thought. "In all the time you've known me, who else have I held or caressed?"

Realization dawned on his face and the slight flush that had risen turned into a full blush. "Only me," he breathed. I nodded. Maybe now things between us could progress more. Excitement raced through me, but I didn't let it show. Right before his short program wasn't the time to push him.

"You should go warm up," I told him, putting a little distance between us. "We can talk more later. For now, you need to focus on your skating."

He nodded at me, then walked off to stretch. When I went out after him, he was pacing the hall, a determined look on his face. Chris started to ask me if Yuuri was alright, but I cut him off, content to watch him work through this all at his own pace.

In another few minutes, it was time for him to go. I leaned over the edge of the rink, grabbed his hand and held on.

"The time to seduce me picturing _katsudon_ during your skate is over. You can do it with your own charm now. You can see that, can't you?" I ran my index finger across his knuckles, feeling the contact deeply even through the layers of both our gloves. Suddenly, he laced our fingers together and brought his forehead up to press against mine.

"Don't take your eyes off me," he whispered fervently. Then he glided way from me and towards the middle of the ice to skate his program on seduction. I had no doubt he would be incredible.

And incredible it was.

That night, Yuuri's family called to congratulate him. I could see that the pressure was already getting to him. He wasn't used to being in first place, and he was terrified that he would self-destruct again like he had the year before. I was determined to keep that from happening. But would he respond better to comfort, or distraction?

Our rooms were adjoining, so I let myself into his and sat down on the bed next to him.

"What am I doing, Victor?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"What you were always meant to do. Skating beautifully. Winning. Why does that scare you?"

"You know what I'm like. I could miss every single jump tomorrow. And then what?"

"You won't," I assured him firmly. He looked less than convinced. "Cheering you up doesn't seem to be working. Would you rather I distract you, then?"

"How would you do that?" He seemed genuinely curious. So innocent. So trusting.

"Like this." I cupped the back of his head and leaned in, stopping when our lips were only a hair's breadth apart. His eyes flew wide, his hand rising up to fist the front of my shirt. His breath caught. And I waited. I wouldn't push. It would be his decision. It had to be.

The moment seemed to stretch on into eternity. Just when I thought he wouldn't be able to go through with it, his eyes fluttered closed and he tipped his chin up. His lips pressed against mine, lightly, slowly, softly. Then he made a low sound in his throat and began kissing me desperately. I tried to focus, to not let myself get lost in the wave of desire that threatened to drag me down. I needed to keep this contained, to not let it get any farther than a kiss. But his hands threaded through my hair, anchoring me to him, his lips opened so that his tongue could trace against my own, and I nearly lost all my resolve.

I couldn't believe that I finally had him, in my arms, his mouth on mine, our breath mingled until I couldn't tell which was mine and which was his. It wasn't until I realized that I had started to lower him down onto the mattress that I came to my senses. I wanted him, far too much, but this wasn't the time. Not like this, when the pressure was eating him from the inside out and he might not be thinking clearly.

Reluctantly, I lightened the kiss and pulled away. I pressed innocent kisses to the corner of his lips, his eyelids, his forehead. Then I cupped his face in my hands and stared down into his wide eyes. "Get some sleep, _drogoaya_ ," I said softly. He nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

Though it was the opposite of what I really wanted to do, I rose and returned to my own room, leaving the door open between us.


	7. Chapter 7

_**This is a BEAST of a chapter. Seriously. There was a ton I wanted to add, and a barrel of lemons. Enjoy! (also, the start of this chapter is right after most of the events of episode 7, including the garage scene)**_

 _I'm such an idiot._

As Yuuri stepped onto the ice, I tried to focus on his performance instead of what had just happened between us. I knew that I'd taken the wrong approach in my attempt to comfort and reassure him down in the garage. I would never forget the way he had looked with tears in his eyes. Tears that I'd put there with a stupid comment that I hadn't meant. Worse, I hadn't known how to react to his tears. My question about kissing him had been insensitive and crude.

If he'd hit me it would have been only what I deserved. But he hadn't. He'd handled the situation with more poise than I had any right to expect him to. When we'd walked back up toward the rink, all the negative emotion seemed to have left him. He was cool, collected, almost serene.

And then, when he began to skate, I knew that neither of us had any reason to doubt or fear. He flew through the program with that same grace that had drawn me to him from the first. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Then at the end, he stole my breath. The quid flip had been my signature move, and though he hadn't landed it perfectly, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It wasn't just a jump. It was _us._ I could understand him as if he was speaking directly to me. I could see him pouring his heart out on the ice. And he'd given it to me.

The music ended and I stood, frozen, for a full moment. Then I began sprinting towards the entrance to the rink. Yuuri saw me and skated to meet me. There were a dozen thoughts whirling through my mind, and I had no idea what I was going to do when I got him in my arms. But then he was right in front of me, asking if he got it right, and there was only one thought left. I launched myself at him, capturing his lips and taking us both down onto the ice.

One of my hands cradled the back of his head to keep it from hitting the rink, the other was gripping him tightly to me. The kiss was hard and fast, igniting between us like a match and then going out just as quickly. I turned my face and tucked it against his shoulder, hugging him. A thousand cameras had to have gone off but I didn't care. All that mattered was Yuuri, lying there in my arms, looking up at me as if I was his whole world.

It was only fair; he was mine.

"This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you surprised me." I pulled away enough to look down at him, and he smiled at me.

"Really?"

"Really." Grinning like only a man in love can, I pulled him to his feet and we made our way to the kiss and cry.

When the exhibition was finished, we skipped dinner out and went back to the hotel. After tucking his metal safely away, we ordered room service and Yuuri spoke to his family while we waited for it. I eavesdropped shamelessly, trying to hear if any of them said anything about our kiss. Eventually, Yuuri got fed up with me hovering and shooed me back across the room. There was a knock on the door, and by the time I turned back with the food that had just been delivered, he was off the phone again.

"So, they must all be very proud of you," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, they are. Surprised, though."

"Oh?" Who was I kidding with my nonchalant act? Yuuri smirked at me.

"They've never seen me do so well under pressure. Mom said it must be your influence."

"Oh! Well good then." There was a pause. Yuuri was still smirking. "And that's all they were surprised about?"

He shrugged and nodded. "I guess."

"Oh, for the love of-" I glared at him. "You know exactly what I'm taking about. They have to have had _something_ to say about me kissing you on national television."

"I didn't say they didn't say anything about it," he replied somewhat slyly. "Just that they weren't _surprised."_

"They weren't?" I sat down heavily into my chair across from his and blinked at him as he took the cover off his meal.

"We've spent nearly every waking moment together for the last six months. Plus, they know you've been my idol for years. And apparently I was the only one who didn't pick up on your flirting. Or rather, didn't realize that you meant it seriously."

"Subtlety never has been my strong suit," I said unabashed. "So what did they have to say about it, then?" He flushed and he stared at the food on his plate.

"Uh, well they're happy for me- for us. Mom says she'll make us _katsudon_ when we get home to celebrate. Minako suggested we stay a few extra days here to... uh... have fun." The lovely pink that had risen to his cheeks deepened to a bright crimson and I could just imagine how the feisty woman had actually worded that suggestion. I grinned.

"Well, then, it's a plan! We can stay in China the rest of the week before going back to Japan to resume training."

"R-really?"

"Sure, why not? Even professional athletes need a break from time to time. And the rink here is open to you if we decide to squeeze in a few hours here and there. Besides, I'd like to celebrate in our own way before we go back to your family." I cut into my steak and took a bite.

"Like sight seeing, or going out somewhere, or something?"

"Well, those things too, but I had something else in mind. I guess you could call it training, of a sort."

"I thought you said this was a break? Do you think my jumps need more work? Because I was thinking-"

"I meant teaching you the true meaning of Eros, if you want," I interrupted softly, lacing my fingers through his. He nearly choked on his food. I could see his heart rate go through the roof. He looked down at our joined hands, then into my eyes.

"O-okay," he whispered. Despite how much I'd hoped that would be his reaction, I was shocked by his easy acquiescent.

"You... you're sure you're ready for that? I didn't mean that we needed to-"

"I'm sure." He gripped my hand tighter, a look of fierce determination and what I could only hope was arousal on his face. "I've wanted that for a long time now, Victor. I never thought that you would... that you _could_ want the same thing. I think that maybe part of the reason that I never let myself love anyone else was that I was waiting for you."

My heart clutched, then I felt something burning in my chest. _Love_. I loved him so much in that moment that I thought I would burst with it. I'd told him that I loved him before; we had spoken of love in many different contexts. But this was different. I wanted to tell him, to look into his eyes and say that my heart was his, totally and completely.

"Yuuri..." I stood up slowly and pulled him to his feet as well. He came willingly, eagerly even. Our food was forgotten on the table. My free hand slid into his hair and cradled the back of his head. I lowered my lips to his. His breath caught just before we met, and his hand clutched my shoulder. Then we were kissing passionately. He tasted of the wine I'd ordered with dinner and I pressed closer for more. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so desperately. None of my previous sexual experiences had prepared me for the intensity of being with Yuuri. It was like trying to compare a candle to the sun. Despite his inexperience, or perhaps because of it, he responded to my touch with a fervor that drove me to near madness.

My free hand slid down his back to press him closer to me. One blind step at a time, never breaking our kiss, we backed towards the bed. When our knees bumped the mattress, I lowered us until we were sitting. With a sigh, Yuuri pushed back and looked up at me.

"You know I haven't... that I haven't ever done this before. But I want to please you. So just tell me what to do and I'll do it. I want to-" he paused and searched for the right words. "I want to show you what you mean to me."

I smiled, as much at his selfless eagerness as at the warmth of his words. "Yuuri, I love you. Everything about you. And I love that you want to express yourself to me this way. It is a precious gift that I will treasure for the rest of my life. But let's take it slow. Let me lead, let me show you." I pressed another soft kiss to his lips and felt him nod.

"Okay," he breathed. I kissed down his jaw and throat, then he stopped me by taking my face between his hands and tipping it up. "I love you too, Victor."

Hearing him say those words, that way, was almost more than I could bear. I groaned low, resuming my kissing path down his chest and stripping off his clothes as I went. Once I'd tugged his pants off, I knelt on the floor between his legs. Somehow, he'd managed to remove my shirt as well, and I leaned in, wrapping both arms around his waist. My head rested against his ribs and I could feel his erection against my chest. His hands shook as they stroked through my hair.

I kissed one nipple, then gently urged him to lay back on the bed. More kisses followed, down his stomach and to his hip. His muscles bunched and flexed in automatic reflex to my attention, his whole body eager for more. He whispered my name brokenly, and I vowed to myself that I would hear him scream it before I was done with him. Slowly, I trailed my lips from his hip towards his cock. The tip of my tongue traced around the base of it and he nearly arched off the bed in reaction. I pressed open mouthed kisses up the length of him, then swirled my tongue around the crown. He shuddered, both hands going up to thread through my hair.

I felt drunk with the thrill of it, giving him such pleasure and knowing that I was the only one who'd ever had him like this. The only one who'd tasted him, teased him, taken him. I closed my lips around him and sucked. His hips jerked and more of his length was thrust into my mouth. I took it eagerly, moving in rhythm with him until I had him panting and writhing on the bed. He moaned, and I felt his abdominal muscles tense. Instead of going faster, I slowed down, backing him away from the edge and drawing out his pleasure. He called my name again, this time his lust and need clear in his voice. Still, I wanted more. I took him deep and swallowed. As he cried out, I moved one of my hands from his hip down to between his legs and pressed lightly against his ass.

"Victor... Victor... _Victor!_ " His whole body coiled tight like a spring and then released. He shuddered and arched, hips bucking helplessly as he spilled into my mouth. My own cock ached with need at the sight of him, the feel of him, the _taste_ of him, coming apart beneath me. I kept sucking, softer and slower, until the last of the aftershocks had faded away. Then, I crawled up onto the bed with him.

He stayed on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, dazed. "I... That was... _wow_."

"So articulate," I teased. His mouth quirked up into a crooked half smile and he rolled sluggishly to his side to look at me.

"It's your own fault," he chided me sarcastically. "If you want coherent thought, that's not the way to get it."

"Oh? And what if I want pure, unbridled ecstasy from you?"

"Then you went about it the right way." His gaze dropped to the straining front of my trousers. "But I'd like to return the favor... if you don't mind. I mean, I won't be nearly as good at it as you-"

" _Dorogoy_ , I have no doubt that when you try your hand at that, you'll have me incoherent in two seconds flat. But we don't have to do that tonight. You already had a pretty intense lesson on Eros, and you've had a long day."

He frowned at me, clearly unhappy with the situation. "Yes, but I don't want to leave you like that. I want to... reciprocate."

I could see that he wasn't about the let the subject drop, and despite my intention to be selfless, my swollen cock was eager for attention. "Alright, how about we start with something... more familiar." I stripped off my trousers and stretched out on the bed beside him. He looked at me, eyes wandering over by body slowly and lingering on my erection. When he saw me watching him, he blushed.

"I, uh-"

"You've seen me naked before," I reminded him with a smirk. "Many times."

"Well, yes, but... this is different."

"Indeed it is," I agreed. I kissed him, slow and deep, taking my time exploring every inch of him. As I did, I took one of his hands in my own and slipped it down to my cock. He brushed against it hesitantly, then with my encouragement, he wrapped his fingers around it. He squeezed and I groaned.

"Gah, was that too hard?" He pulled back to look down at where he was gripping me.

"No, not at all," I assured him breathlessly. "Do that again. Stroke me the way you would stroke yourself." There was a pause, then his grip grew firm as he slid his fist up and then back down again. I clenched my jaw to hold back another moan. I was already strung taut as a piano wire, and the fact that it was _Yuuri_ touching me the way I'd fantasized about so many times before was leaving my control in tatters. I turned my head and kissed him again. Our tongues tangled. He began to move his hand in rhythm with our kiss, faster and faster until I gasped and called his name. " _Yuuri!_ "

I felt the coil in my belly snap, pleasure coursing through me like fire licking along a fuse. He kept stroking me through my orgasm until I couldn't take any more and had to grab his wrist to still him. Then I collapsed onto my back and tried to catch my breath.

When I finally opened my eyes again and looked over at him, Yuuri had lifted his hand to his mouth. There were two pearly beads of my release on his palm. He drew his tongue across one and tasted it. I moaned involuntarily, spent cock twitching at just the sight. His eyes flew up and saw me watching him.

"Oh god, I can't believe you just saw me do that!"

I chuckled at how mortified he was. "It was incredibly erotic." He inhaled sharply and his expression turned to one of shock. "Besides, it's only fair that you get to taste mine. I got to taste yours."

"Jeez, you did, didn't you. Victor, this was... I mean, all of this has been incredible."

"I'm glad you think so. Just wait till you hear what tomorrow's lesson is." I winked at him and he smiled. "For now, I think you need some sleep."

"That _did_ wear me out," he admitted.

"Yes, it was all my sexual prowess, and had nothing to do with the grueling physical exertion you did earlier today. I get credit for all of it."

He poked me in the ribs. "Smart ass." I grinned and rolled him till he was facing away from me, then pulled him back against my chest. His head was pillowed on my bicep, his hips cradled against mine, our legs entwined. He let out a long breath and settled into the embrace to sleep.

" _Ya lyublya tebya_ ," I whispered to him, pressing a kiss behind his ear. "I love you."

The next morning, I stayed in bed late with Yuuri. Normally I am an early riser, but I was happy to lie next to the man I love and hold him close. His skin was warm, his fine black hair mussed sensually, and his lips were parted ever so slightly.

It was tempting, oh so tempting, to wake him with another lesson on Eros – or even to repeat the lesson from the night before just for good measure – but I resisted. He was so new to all things sexual, and I had no desire to rush him. No, we could take things one at a time, savoring each new discovery slowly.

When he finally roused (I might have assisted the process with a few kisses...) we had a leisurely breakfast and then a swim in the hotel pool. That afternoon we saw a few of the sights, ate dinner at a restaurant the concierge had suggested, and returned to our room just as the sun was setting. I shrugged out of my coat and watched as Yuuri did the same, but stiffly, as if he was embarrassed about it. He continued removing layers, his shoes, his jacket, then his shirt. When he reached for the buckle of his belt, I stopped him.

"Yuuri, what are you doing?"

His nervous eyes met mine. "I, well, undressing. I thought we were going to... you know."

"That hadn't been my plan straight away, but if it was, I would hope you wouldn't go about getting ready for it as though you're about to have a tooth pulled." I cupped the side of his face, urging him to keep looking at me when he would have cast his eyes down.

"It's not like that. Honestly. I'm just not sure what to expect. I don't know how these things usually work, and I don't want to disappoint you."

"Yuuri..." I pulled him gently to the couch and sat down. He landed softly against me, his back resting on my chest as I reclined and stretched my legs out. "I want you to know, first and foremost, that in this area, you will never disappoint me. The fact that you are willing to share your heart with me, and your body by extension, is already a dream come true. I don't want you to doubt yourself. There is no right or wrong way to go about this kind of thing. I joke about giving you lessons, but in reality, this isn't a subject you can fail. We can explore all that Eros has to offer together, and I'm happy to impart everything I know. Still, this is a path we are forging together. There's no need to try and be or act a certain way. I'm not expecting anything from you but trust and communication. Whatever else happens is up to both of us."

He took a deep breath, considering what I'd said. Slowly, I felt him relax against me. "Alright." The smile was back in his voice. "So what _did_ you plan for the evening, if not that?"

"Well it's not as though that wasn't on the list eventually, but I thought we would do what we do any other night. Talk, relax, we could watch a show or put on some music..."

"I guess even couples do the regular stuff too, huh?"

"As I understand it," I chuckled. "I'm happy – eager – to have you as my lover, Yuuri, but you're my friend as well. I'm not suddenly only interested in your body. I want to know what you're thinking, hold you, make you happy."

"You do make me happy. Happier than I've ever been."

"I feel the same," I murmured in his ear. He scoffed.

"Happier than winning a gold metal?"

My brow furrowed; I turned him so that he was facing me and shook my head at him. "Far happier. You know that winning had become mundane to me. I never had the family and love that you're used to. Skating was _all_ I had for so long, and by the time we met even that had lost its shine. You mean more to me than all the metals in the world."

Yuuri's hand came up to cup my face, his eyes soft. He leaned in and kissed me sweetly, then rested his cheek against my chest, just above my heart. "You're always so poised, so serene, that it's easy to forget that your life hasn't been picture perfect."

"Serene, me?" I laughed. Yuuri smiled with me.

"You know what I mean. You're always so... happy. Like nothing ever gets to you. I've had so much going for me and I'm still a mess of nerves."

"Plenty of things get to me. It's partly _because_ I didn't have a support system growing up that it doesn't show. I learned early on to keep all of that inside. Not the healthiest way of dealing with it, perhaps. But I manage. And your anxiety is nothing to be made light of, Yuuri. The fact that you continue to work through it the way you do amazes me."

He shifted, looking embarrassed. "You're the amazing one." I shook my head at him and he grumbled. "But you don't ever have to face anything alone again. You don't have to keep it inside any more. I want you to confide in me, lean on me, let me help you if I can."

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling him into a tight hug. If it was possible, I felt my love for him intensify. Every time I thought there was nothing he could do to endear himself to me more, he surprised me. To never be alone again was a beautiful prospect. It was too soon for us to make promises and commitments to each other, but I had no doubt those would come soon enough. Yuuri was everything I needed, and I would do whatever it took to be everything he needed, too.

"Victor?" he asked after we'd been holding each other quietly for a while.

"Mm?"

"How often... I mean, do you like to do that kind of stuff often? What we did last night?" He fidgeted. I looked down at him to see his face had gone bright red.

"Oh! Well... it depends, I guess. It's different when you're on your own or with someone."

"What about... when you're with me?"

It was my turn to flush a little. "To be perfectly honest, I'd be happy to spend all my time in bed with you, but that doesn't mean that we have to-"

"Can we?" He looked half eager and half embarrassed. My mouth dropped open.

"Y-you mean right now?"

He nodded. "If you're up for it. It's just... being close to you like this..." A grin slowly spread across my face.

"In that case, why don't we move to the bed?"

"I'd like that." We rose and crossed the room, sinking down onto the mattress. I leaned in to kiss him, but he pulled back. "I want to- to do what you did last night, though."

"You don't have to-"

"I know. But I _want_ to. Please."

I let out my breath slowly through my nose, fighting the urge to tackle him to the bed and have my wicked way with him. His innocent sensuality, his eagerness for more, was driving me wild. "Alright," I agreed. Quickly, I stripped out of my clothes and helped him the rest of the way out of his. "Why don't we try something to help you learn?"

"You _are_ a pretty great teacher."

"And I think you'll like this type of lesson," I grinned. I urged him to lay down on his side, then flipped around so that I was facing him with my head at his waist.

"What are we-" He stopped when he realized how we were aligned, and I heard his sharp intake of breath.

"All you have to do is copy me. Do what I do. This isn't going to be anything too complicated, but if you're uncomfortable or don't want to, we can stop at any time."

"I doubt I'll want to stop," he murmured, his eyes glued to my erection. I chuckled and settled more comfortably on my side, then leaned in and captured the tip of him between my lips. His breath hissed out and there was a pause, then he took me into his mouth. I fought the urge to buck my hips. The feel of him was incredible, the dual sensations of him in my mouth and me in his was enough to make me want to spill already. But there was so much to show him, so much to explore.

I took my time, slowly sliding my tongue over his length and rubbing it along the crown. He hesitantly copied me, moaning low in his throat and gripping my hips tightly. I sucked him a little deeper, hollowing my cheeks to increase the pressure. Yuuri did the same, making a few erotic, wet sounds as he adjusted to the suction and movement. Once, he took me deep, deeper than I had been showing him, and I groaned around him. His cock jerked in response to the vibration and he moaned, treating me to the same sensation. I increased my pace and pressure, knowing that at this rate, I wouldn't last very long.

Yuuri matched me stroke for stroke, his movements unpracticed, sometimes unsure, but always with an earnestness that enticed. I was so wrapped up in my response to him that I almost didn't pull away at the end. As the first spasms of his orgasm hit him, though, I managed to jerk my hips back. With blind, fumbling movements, I wrapped both his hand and my own around my cock and brought myself to completion. I swallowed around him, sucking eagerly and taking every bit of him that I could as pleasure coursed through me.

Eventually he pushed at me, over sensitized and gasping for breath. I flopped to my back and tried to calm my racing heart. "Yuuri... that was..."

"Why did you pull away," he asked softly. I looked at him and was shocked to see hurt on his face.

"Yuuri." Quickly, I shifted on the bed until I was face to face with him and pulled him close. "That can be... difficult, the first time. I didn't want to gag you or make you swallow if you didn't want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to?"

I shrugged. "Some people are bothered by it, or don't care for it. We hadn't talked about it, and I didn't want to push you into it. I should have made sure I knew what you wanted, first." I brushed his hair off his forehead and kissed him in apology.

"I want all of you, Victor."

"Next time we can try it, and you can decide then. Never doubt that I want you, though."

"So that was good, then?"

"That was amazing, _lyubimaya_. Even more than I expected it would be. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd done that before."

He blushed and narrowed his eyes at me in a mock glare. "You're the expert here," he retorted.

"And you are the innocent that I've set my sights on despoiling." I pushed him back and playfully mounted him, kissing his neck and biting him softly. He laughed, squirming under me and at turns pulling me close and pushing me back.

"You haven't fully despoiled me yet," he challenged. I stilled, wondering just how much more he knew could be between us. Yes, he was a grown man, but I had the feeling that his innocence extended beyond just physical knowledge.

"We don't have to do any more than this, you know." I shifted until I was beside him, propped up on my elbow so I could look at him clearly.

"But there _is_ more-" I couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question.

"There doesn't have to be. We're lovers now, sharing our bodies with each other, giving and receiving pleasure. That can be enough, if you want it to be."

"What about p-penetration?"

"It's not necessary by any means."

"But, I mean... I always assumed that part was 'real sex.'"

"There are different ways of looking at it, but think of it this way. Two female partners could never have 'real' penetration, and yet they would be lovers."

"I guess that makes sense."

"So there's no absolute need for it."

"But would you want to?"

I bit my lip as I looked down at him, wondering if caution or absolute honesty was a better idea. What happened just before his free skate came to mind and I shied away from anything less than the truth. I didn't want to risk hurting him again. Leaning down until my forehead was pressed against his, I met his eyes intently. "I want to be joined to you in every way possible, Yuuri. To be as close to you as two beings can be."

A smile broke across his face. "Good." He tipped my face down and kissed me, his tongue dancing with mine tantalizingly. "Do you want to try it now?"

"That stamina of yours is going to be the death of me, _krasivaya_ ," I laughed. "Try and remember that I'm an old man compared to you." He scoffed.

"You're only four years older than me."

"In skating years that's like a decade."

"Skating years? Is that like dog years?"

"Indeed. I'm positively ancient in the sport. If I had skated this year instead of coaching you, they would have served me prune juice at the kiss and cry."

"There are other twenty-seven year old skaters, you know."

"Very few, and none that already came back once from a major injury. My career should have ended when I was twenty. Every year after that has been borrowed time."

Yuuri was quiet for a long while. His fingers traced over my skin slowly, absently, until the tip of one finger found the long silver scar on the inside of my knee. "What happened? I know it was a skating accident on a lake, but you never talked about the details in any interviews."

I pulled his hand away from the scar and laced our fingers together. "It was a foolish mistake. My own fault, really."

"That can't be true."

"It is. Yacov had warned me the weather was unusually warm. He knew that the lake I liked to skate on was likely not safe. I didn't listen. I went anyway."

"Why were you even on a lake? I assume for training you would have preferred the rink."

"It is near my parent's graves. For many years, on the anniversary of their deaths, I would go there and skate for them."

"I'm sorry, Victor."

"Don't be. It was a beautiful tradition, beautiful but macabre. I knew it was too dangerous to go that year, and I hadn't cared. Sometimes I wonder if part of me didn't know something would happen. If I just hadn't cared, or if somewhere deep down I had hoped for it." Yuuri gasped and I shook my head. "Don't worry, it's been a long time since I had such unhealthy thoughts." His fingers tightened on mine and he pressed his forehead to my chest. "The ice broke and my leg became trapped. Two slabs of it pinned me at my knee. I used the blade of my other skate to try and hack myself free, but it wasn't working, and if I hadn't gotten out of the water quickly, I would have lost my entire leg to frostbite. I ended up breaking my knee to wrench it free."

Yuuri shuddered. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like."

"The cold helped with the pain, some." I tried to sound casual, but even the memory of it was brutal. I could see it as if it had happened only yesterday, the ice staining red as I sliced my skin open trying to break myself free with the heel of my left skate. The panic clawing at me, consuming me, the terrifying anticipation of the worst. The agony of muscle, tendon and bone being ripped apart as I finally got free. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. "If Yakov hadn't come to check on me, I still might have frozen to death after I dragged myself to shore. It took three surgeries to get function back in that leg, and they told me that I might never be able to walk on it."

"And yet you were back skating competitively the very next year." He looked up at me with awe in his eyes. I flushed and shook my head.

"Don't say it like that. I'm just too stubborn to go down without a fight. It wasn't as though I worked some kind of miracle. There were times when I considered giving up. Times when I thought I really would never skate again. But I just refused to stop trying. First it was walking, then running, then skating. I cut off my hair and made my debut back onto the ice as a new man."

"I missed your hair so much that year." Yuuri ran his hands through the short silver strands of my hair longingly. "But now that it's been short for so much time I can't imagine you with it long again."

"Maybe I'll grow it out again just to surprise you."

"Then maybe someday I'll grow mine long, too."

I thought about that. Yuuri with long hair. Long, silky black strands that would spill over his shoulders as he leaned towards me... "Don't put images like that in my head, or I might find that I have the stamina for another round after all," I teased. He blushed and rolled over, tucking himself up against me from shoulder to toes. I laughed, kissed the top of his head, and relaxed into sleep.

The next day was a whirlwind of sightseeing. We went to the rink over lunch to get in an hour of practice, then continued on, buying souvenirs and taking far more pictures than were strictly necessary.

We stopped at a drug store on our way back and I picked up a few things necessary for the carnal plans we had that night. Yuuri blushed the whole time, but refused to wait outside when I offered to buy them on my own. When we got to the hotel, I opened a bottle of wine and we sipped it while eating artisan chocolates we had bought.

Thinking of how drunk Yuuri had gotten at the Grand Prix banquet off of champagne, I put away the bottle before either of us had too much. While I had been first entranced by that brash and sensual version of him, the months I'd spent with him since made it clear that wasn't who he really was. I didn't want him inebriated enough that he might be incapable of making rational decisions.

The music I'd put on changed to a slow, sweet melody, and I wrapped my arm around Yuuri's shoulders. He leaned into the embrace. When we both reached for the chocolates at the same time, our hands touched. Yuuri pulled back, letting me go first. I plucked one from the box, then placed it between his teeth instead of my own. While he held it there, I lowered my mouth to his and bit off the other half.

We kissed, tasting sweet and dark, of chocolate and desire. His hand rose up to slide under my shirt, and I responded by resting my own high on his thigh. Heat coursed through us both and suddenly the fabric of our clothes was entirely too confining. We practically tore them off of each other, touching and kissing and tasting our way down to bare skin.

"Bed," I murmured before things got too out of hand. Not only would it be more comfortable, but there were certain supplies I'd put in the nightstand that we would need. Yuuri nodded eagerly and instead of breaking our embrace, I urged his legs up around my waist and carried him to the bed. For a moment, I marveled at how easy it was to lift him. How perfectly he fit in my arms. Then I laid him down on the bed and kissed him.

"Victor," Yuuri arched beneath me, rubbing our erections together erotically. I groaned, bowled over by how much this man could turn me on, could shake my world. "I _want_ you."

"I want you too, _lyubimaya_." I pulled the little bottle of strawberry scented lubricant and packet of condoms from the side table and tossed them onto the bed beside us. "Do you want me inside you, tonight, or would you rather take me?"

He looked torn for a moment, then bit his lip. "Me," he decided. "I want to feel you, all of you. And I'm not sure I'd know exactly what to do on top," he admitted.

"I'll show you, then," I whispered, quickly slicking us both. He moaned at the feel of my hand gliding over him, the cool liquid warming between our skin. I kissed him languidly and eased one finger inside of him. His whole body clenched. I waited, giving him time to adjust to the sensation before starting to move. He breathed my name, once, twice, then over and over again as I stroked him and worked a second finger into him. On their own, his legs fell aside, his incredible flexibility allowing me greater access to his body. Each time I brushed softly against the sweet spot inside him, he gasped and clenched around me.

Already, I was hard and throbbing just thinking about him squeezing around my cock like that. "Are you ready, Yuuri?"

"Yes," he gasped. "Please, Victor!"

His pleas were music to my ears, beautiful and precious. Slowly, carefully, I brought my body to his and began to press inside him. I kept my hand wrapped around the length of him the whole time, stroking him steadily to relax him. He closed his eyes and I stopped, worried I was moving too fast. "Are you alright," I whispered hoarsely.

Immediately, his eyes opened again. "More," he begged.

I could have howled in satisfaction. I pushed deeper until I was buried all the way inside of him. He was clenching around me, twitching in my hand, breathing hard and looking at me with so much love in his eyes that I thought I would burst before we even really began. He canted his hips up, spurring me on. Soon, we had built up a rhythm and I was driving into him again and again. Each thrust, each stroke, brought us closer and closer to the edge of release until we were both shuddering with the need to come. I gritted my teeth against the pleasure, determined to see him reach completion before I did.

It was only a few more moments until he cried my name raggedly and his body bowed off the bed. I couldn't have stopped myself from following him into bliss even if I'd tried. With a low groan I buried myself deep into him and allowed my orgasm to wash over me. His blunt nails dug into my back deliciously. My face was pressed against his neck as I tried to catch my breath. Each twitch of his spent cock between us made me bite my lip in renewed pleasure.

When we finally eased apart, Yuuri grinned at me sleepily. "That was..."

"Yeah," I agreed, returning his smile. I kissed him softly.

"I hope you want to do that again."

"What, right now?" Both my brows shot up in shock. I knew he had stamina, but that was just ridiculous.

"No," he laughed, "though I wouldn't be against it once I get my breath back. I meant in the future. The near future."

"Ah, well in that case, absolutely. As long as you liked it."

"Liked it? I think that's putting it mildly."

"Good." I nuzzled his neck then shifted to my back and pulled him against me, so that his head was resting on my chest. He ran his hand through the short, silver hairs there idly.

"So," he said after we'd held each other in silence for a while, "you're pretty good at that." I was just about to thank him when he tucked his face a little. "I guess you had some practice in the past?"

I'd never had any regrets about my sexuality. I wasn't ashamed of anything I'd done in my past, nor had I ever felt the need to hide any of it. I still didn't. And yet, there was part of me that wished, just for a moment, that Yuuri would have been my first time. That we could have shared it together.

But then, I wouldn't be the same man, and I might not have ended up with Yuuri.

"Some," I admitted. "Would you like to hear about it? Last time I tried to talk to you about past lovers, you shied away from the topic."

"That had more to do with embarrassment than not wanting to know. But now I'm not sure that I _do_ want to know."

"You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I guess... I mean, is there anyone I know?"

"I don't believe so," I said, thinking back. The chances of him encountering any of them seemed wildly slim.

"No one? Not even, uh, Chris?"

"Chris? As in Christophe Giacometti? That Chris?"

"Yes, that Chris," Yuuri huffed. I laughed, and he scowled at me. "What?"

"Yuuri, _you'd_ have a better chance of sleeping with him than I ever would have!"

"What? That's not true!" His face turned bright red. I laughed again.

"It is. Besides, despite the fact that he flirts so openly, he has been in a committed relationship for a long time now."

"Really? With who?"

"Ah, that's a secret. I can't tell."

"Spoil sport."

"You love me anyway."

"I do." He smiled softly and kissed me, right over my heart. The thought of getting a tattoo in that exact spot flitted through my mind, but I shook my head to clear it. "So. No specifics. But tell me about your history. Did you always know you were-"

"Gay?"

"Y-yeah. That."

"It's not a dirty word, you know," I chuckled. He rolled his eyes and smiled. "But yes, I think I always knew. I let myself be introduced to sex young. Far younger than I should have."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It didn't leave me scarred. It might be why I feel so strongly about protecting Yurio's innocence, though. Not that he has any interest in what I have to say."

"Of course he does. He might not like to show it, but he looks up to you. Idolizes you."

"He wants to emulate my success, but idolizes me? Hardly."

"It's true. I think he sees you as a mentor, in his own way."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same person? Yurio barely listens to Yakov, let alone me."

"Which is why he flew all the way to Japan when you left. Why he insisted you choreograph his short program, why he makes sure to follow every step of your career."

I thought about that for a moment. I had always known there was some connection between Yurio and I, however grudging he was about it. And though I felt like I knew him better than most, could see when his brusqueness and insolence were facades for more meaningful emotion, it still hadn't really occurred to me that he might see me the way Yuuir described. A smile curled my lips. "You know, I think you might be right." And now that I knew, I was going to use that to keep him on the right track. Yurio needed more people looking out for him. "But we got off topic. I was telling you about my sordid history."

"Sordid?"

"Okay, well not really. I've been in three relationships, if you can call them that, including the first one. None of them were as meaningful as they should have been. Skating always came first, and other areas of my life suffered because of that. I always thought there would be time later, always took things for granted. A mistake I don't intend to make with you. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, Yuuri."

"Really?"

"Really." I kissed the top of his head and he snuggled deeper into my arms, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I love you, Victor."

"I love you, too, _detka_."

The rest of our week off passed far quicker than either of us would have liked. We did more sightseeing, stopped to train at the rink a little, and enjoyed spending time together as a real couple. It was a beautiful thing, to be able to kiss Yuuri any time I wanted, to touch him without reserve, to hold his hand.

Our nights were filled with more passion than I ever though possible. Though he was shy and somewhat reserved, Yuuri was an open and generous lover. He was always eager for more, enticing me with his newfound lust. The only thing he hadn't decided to try yet was topping me. I assumed he was working his way up to it, or just enjoyed what we had already done so much that he wasn't in a rush to change. Either way, I wasn't worried. Every time with Yuuri was better than the last, each time we shared our bodies our intimacy deepened.

I was reluctant to fly back to Japan when the time came. Though I had faith in Yuuri, and in our budding relationship, I somehow felt like things would change when we left. As if everything we had shared was contained in a fragile bubble that would burst, and then things would go back to the way they'd been before. Now that I'd tasted Yuuri's passion, I wasn't sure how I would go back.

Minako met us at the air port with a knowing grin. Yuuri hadn't let go of my hand, and I felt some of the worry gripping me ease. Back at the resort, the entire Katsuki family was eager to offer him congratulations on his win, and even to to me for helping him. My worry dissipated all together. Yuuri's family had never been anything but loving and supportive of him. It had been foolish of me to expect that to change because of the new development in our relationship.

We ate _katsudon_ and celebrated with drinks. One by one, everyone excused themselves for bed. Eventually, it was just Yuuri and I, sitting at the table beside each other, feeling slightly tipsy and brushing shoulders as we talked.

"I guess we should get some sleep," Yuuri said with a yawn. "Especially if we're going to start training tomorrow."

"Probably right," I agreed, rising and pulling him up with me. He swayed a little, and I steadied him with a chuckle. We made our way up the stairs and once we reached the hall, came to a stop. My door was to our right, his was at the end of the hall. Suddenly, my earlier fears returned with a vengeance. He was a grown man, but that didn't mean that he might not be uncomfortable sleeping with me under his parent's roof.

Makkachin nudged the door to my room open and wagged his tail at us. Yuuri petted him on his way past and into my room. "Good choice, Makka, Victor's futon is bigger than mine." He collapsed on my bed and stretched out. I smiled and followed him in. Again, my fears seemed totally unfounded. I laid down on the bed next to him and pulled him into my arms.

"Just don't think I'm going to take it easy on you tomorrow because of this," I murmured as I kissed his neck.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he whispered back. "After all, Not letting me off easy is how you show your love, remember?"

"Among other things." I pulled my shirt off and pushed him down to the mattress gently. He grinned up at me and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Why don't you show me one now?"


	8. Chapter 8

It was three weeks before we headed to Russia. Our training sessions were intense by mutual decision. Yuuri wanted to make sure he was in the best possible shape for the competition. We were both exhausted at the end of the days, and usually ended up collapsing into bed at night. Yuuri didn't move more than a few of his things into my room, even though he slept with me every night. No one mentioned the change at all. Mari gave me the obligatory older sibling lecture, but other than that, nothing was said about the kiss on national television or the fact that we were sharing a bed.

By the time we flew to Russia for the Rostelecom Cup, we had spent every night together for nearly a month. Of course, I only booked us one room at the hotel. It was a double, but we pushed the beds together.

In the lobby, I was surrounded by reporters. Every time they tried to ask me about my future, I steered the conversation back to Yuuri. Not only did I want to keep the focus on him, but I also wasn't entirely sure what my plan was for the following year. I wasn't ready to think about it.

By the time I escaped the reporters, Yuuri had already headed back up to the room. I passed Yakov on my way, so I knew Yurio had to be around somewhere as well. Yakov was still giving me the cold shoulder, but I could tell that my old coach was following my newest endeavor with interest. I'd certainly lasted longer, and accomplished more, than he'd ever expected. Not that I'd given him reason to think that I would succeed. In the past, I'd been wrapped up in my own bubble, putting on a mask for the rest of the world but not really interacting with it. I was impulsive, forgetful, and sometimes so unaware of those around me that I seemed terrible selfish.

With Yuuri, though, things were different. He brought more out of me, made me a better man.

He sat between my legs on the floor while I rubbed gel between my fingers and then ran them through his hair. Once it was coated, I pulled the comb through the dark, shiny strands to keep them out of his face while he skated. It was a routine we had started back before the Hotsprings on Ice competition, and one I hoped we would continue to do long into the future. I kissed his forehead and then we made our way down to the rink.

Watching him skate his short program was like foreplay. From the moment he pulled me to him by my tie, to the moment he finished the program, I didn't take my eyes off of him. He was Eros embodied. If there had been any doubts whether the new physical aspect of our relationship would help his performance, his score laid them all to rest. I pressed my lips ardently to his boot at the kiss and cry, wanting to show him just how much his skating had effected me.

When Yurio saw us, he scowled and booed. I just smiled. We cheered for him, impressed by his intensity. Yuuri was swept off into interviews, but we stopped to see Yurio's score and congratulate him. Then, Yuuri looked around to make sure no one was watching and tugged me away by my tie. I followed automatically, surprised at him. He didn't even stop to look back at me, just kept going, my tie over his shoulder and me led willingly behind him. A flutter started in my belly.

We stopped at the locker rooms and he pulled me inside. Once the door was shut, he locked it and then turned to me. The look on his face was the same one I'd seen many times before, but from across the ice. I wasn't looking at sweet, innocent Yuuri. This was the man who personified seduction. It was a confidence that I usually only saw when he skated.

"Is that the coat you wore yesterday?" he asked me in a throaty voice that sent shivers down my spine. I nodded, confused but excited, and he pushed me back against the wall. "Good." Then his mouth was on mine, slanting so that he could kiss me deep and hard. In his skates our heights were almost level, and he could dominate the kiss with ease. Both his hands came up to yank my tie off and make short work of the buttons on my shirt. The buckle of my belt was next, then he had opened my trousers and reached inside them to find me rock hard.

With quick, sure movements, he spun us around and bent me over the counter. I gasped, anticipation thrumming through my veins. This was a whole new side of him, the confident skater I saw in competitions erotically merged with the sensual playboy I'd met at the banquet. He had my pants pushed down and then leaned over me and bit my ear. "Hand me the bottle in your coat pocket," he murmured. I obeyed, reaching in and finding the lube bottle I'd forgotten there the day before. There was a little shuffling behind me, then I felt a swath of bare skin against my own.

One of his hands gripped my hip, the other slid down between my legs and began urgently preparing me. I moaned, already halfway to orgasm just at his demeanor. My submissive, sweet Yuuri was all I ever needed. But this dominant, sultry Yuuri was a gift from the gods. Even if this was the only time I ever got him like this, it would be enough. "Are you ready for me?" he growled. I hadn't even known his voice could be so deep, so rough.

"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, please."

"Brace yourself on the counter. I'm going to fuck you hard and fast."

" _Iisus chertov khristos_ yes!" I couldn't have been any more aroused than I was in that moment. Dirty talk was the last thing I ever would have expected from him, but I wanted to beg him for more. I felt him press against me, slowly and carefully despite his forceful demeanor. Inch by inch he slid inside me until he was buried to the hilt. I moaned, swearing and gasping as my body clenched around him tightly.

"You feel so fucking good," he purred. "I could ride you for hours." He shifted back, then thrust forward. His hand reached around to grip me and he stroked once up and back down. "Give me your hand." I reached down and let him wrap my fingers around myself. "I want you to stroke your cock while I fuck you, Vitya. Don't come until I tell you that you can." I nodded eagerly, twitching in my hand and nearly panting with excitement. He drew back and thrust forward once, twice, then found a rhythm so he was driving into me hard over and over again. "Vitya," he moaned, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulled me onto him roughly.

I wanted to last. I wanted to savor every tiny moment of it, to stretch it out until neither of us could move any more. But hearing him call me that, feeling him buried deep inside me, the intensity of it all, had me gone before we'd barely begun. "Yuuri, I need to-"

"Not yet," he ordered, riding me harder. I moaned and gripped the base of my cock tightly to try and fight off my orgasm.

"Yuuri-" The urgency was becoming a tidal wave that I didn't stand a chance against. His cock was pushing against my prostate with every thrust, the feel of him filling me driving me mad, his voice low and smoky like fine whiskey.

"Now," he demanded. "Come for me." I was helpless to deny him. As my orgasm roared to life and consumed me, I dimly felt his hands grip my hips tighter. Then more pleasure layered atop what was already pulsing through me as I felt him twitch and jerk inside me. _Drowning in ecstasy._ I'd said those words to describe Eros the first time I'd shown him the short program, and I'd thought I'd known what they meant. But I hadn't even been close. _This_ was ecstasy. It was overwhelming and all consuming and I thought it would take me apart piece by piece.

Slowly, my pounding heart began to calm and my breath returned. Yuuri had eased himself away and came back with a damp towel to clean me up. When he was done, I rebuttoned my trousers and tried to put myself back to rights. By the time I turned around, his costume was in place and aside from the look in his eyes, you'd never guess what we had been up to. I, on the other hand, looked well and thoroughly fucked. I carded my fingers through my hair, trying to regain some composure.

"You okay?" Yuuri straightened my tie and kissed me softly. I grinned at him, certain I looked like a lovesick fool and not giving a damn.

"Better than okay."

"Good." He unlocked the door and pulled it open. "We'd better get back, then." I nodded and followed him. He kept his eyes forward, but every once in a while they would stray over to me. At first, I could still see the heat, the confidence, from earlier. I wondered how long this _Eros mode_ would last. But with every side glance I could see his cheeks flush a little more. We made it to the viewing room in time to see the end of JJ's routine, and by the time his score was announced, my shy Yuuri was back. I grinned at him and he ducked his head. We were going to have to have a conversation about these different sides of him.

I wanted him to know that any time _Eros mode_ Yuuri wanted to show up, I was more than happy to oblige.

His phone rang and he stepped back to answer it, likely happy to have the excuse to get some air and compose himself. After a few minutes, I went out to find him. He hung up the phone and turned to me, looking pale.

"Victor, you need to get back to Japan. I can handle the free skate tomorrow on my own."

"What?" That was the last thing I could have expected him to say.

"It's Makkachin."

Fear boiled up inside me and I barely heard him as he told me what had happened. _Makkachin_. I'd known he was getting older, had accepted the fact that he wouldn't be with me for much longer. But I'd never contemplated the true loss of him. Not so suddenly. Not like this.

"I... I can't just leave you..." I tried to think past myself and the sudden haze that was clouding my mind. Yuuri hadn't skated on his own since I became his coach. His confidence was rising steadily, but I knew that something like this could send it shooting back down.

"You have to go. He needs you."

"I can't! You need me, too!"

"Victor, I know how this feels. I remember when this happened to me. And I have always regretted that I didn't even get to say goodbye. If he's not going to make it, you need to be there, for you and for him."

I wanted to yell my frustration. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't leave Yuuri without any support, but he was right, I needed to go to Makkachin.

"Yuuri-"

"You know you have to go back!"

"I already told you I can't!" I pressed my hand to my forehead, trying to think of something, anything. Yurio's voice clattered across my thoughts and I saw him, Yakov and Lily walking towards me. "Yakov! That's it!" I went to him immediately. "Thank god. I'm so glad you're here. You are the coach for me."

"What's this? Crawling back already?"

"It'll just be for tomorrow, for one day only, will you be Yuuri's coach?"

"Huh?" The chorus of shocked voices rang out around me.

"I have to go back to Japan. But I can't leave him without a coach."

"And you expect me to step in? I thought I told you-"

"It's Makka," I said softly. "They don't know if he'll make it. Please, Yakov."

He stopped, looking into my eyes and seeing something there that made him his resolve soften. He knew how much Makkachin meant to me, knew how much I had to need him to ask like this. After a moment, he nodded.

"For one day only, then."

"Thank you. Thank you, Yakov."

" _Da, da._ " He waved me off and continued on down the hall.

"Alright, I need to get my passport, and I'll need different shoes, and I'll need to call and get a flight out as soon as possible..." I trailed off, suddenly overwhelmed.

"You go get changed. I'll handle the rest," Yuuri assured me.

He ushered me back to the hotel, making calls as we went. By the time I was in traveling clothes, he had my tickets booked, a bag for me packed, and had called a cab to take me to the airport.

"Ask Yakov if there's anything you need or don't understand," I said by the lobby doors, feeling like I was deserting him. "If you're in trouble, just hug him and he'll be there for you." He nodded, and I pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, Yuuri. I know I won't be here, but I'll be with you in spirit."

The taxi pulled up and honked its horn. I leaned my forehead against his and closed my eyes, wishing I was staying, wishing he could come back with me, wishing everything could be different. The horn sounded again. I kissed him quickly and left, before I lost the will to go.

The flight seemed to stretch on endlessly. Mari was waiting to meet me at the airport, with news that Makkachin was still holding on. We arrived at the vet clinic just as it reopened, and I was ushered back to sit with him. He raised his head as he saw me and whined softly. I thought my heart would break. In two steps I was at his side, stroking him softly.

All the things we had been through together seemed to stream through my mind all at once. Getting him as a puppy after Alexi died. Him keeping me company on the couch as my knee recovered after the accident. Frolicking in the sand on the beach in Saint Petersberg. Coming home to him after every competition, sleeping with him by my side, going for runs early in the morning...

A sob escaped my throat and tears fell from my eyes freely. I couldn't lose him. I _couldn't_. There had to be something, anything, that could be done. I thought about the way Makka always greeted Yuuri, about how I'd been so happy that the two of them had seemed in love at first sight. It wasn't fair that I might lose him like this.

 _As if death is fair,_ I thought bitterly. It would take who and what it wanted, fairness be damned. All I could do was hold him and hope.


	9. Chapter 9

The hours stretched on, and still there was no change. Then, towards afternoon, the vet checked on him again and seemed hopeful that things were looking up. By the time Yuuri's skate was on, he felt confident enough to send us both back to watch it. I sat with Makkachin by my side and Yuuri's family all around us as Yuuri took the ice.

I felt each mistake like a physical blow, knowing how hard every one must have been on Yuuri. The conflict was plain to see on his face, his thoughts showing in his skating. Just when I thought that all was lost, he seemed to regain some of his composure. He glided through his step sequence and began to land his jumps. We all waited with bated breath as he finished the program and made his way to Yakov at the kiss and cry.

The minutes while they added up the scores seemed endless, but then they were totaled. And after JJ's routine, Minako was tallying points on her own to find that Yuuri would manage to qualify despite coming in fourth. The judges confirmed her math a few moments later. It wasn't the way I'd wanted us to make it, but we had made it. I let out a sigh of relief and Makkachin licked my face happily.

We would be off to Barcelona soon. But then what? Suddenly the future I'd been putting off thinking about seemed to crash towards me at break neck speed. It wouldn't be long before the season was over. Would I keep being Yuuri's coach? We hadn't talked about the future beyond the Grand Prix Final, but I wanted to stay coaching Yuuri. He'd grown so much in our time together, surpassing even my wildest imaginations, and I knew he could reach further heights yet. It was everything I could have hoped for and more. Plus, if I wasn't coaching Yuuri, there was a chance we would need to separate, to not see each other for long stretches of time while training.

I simply couldn't do that. I couldn't let him go. When I saw him again, I would tell him.

The next day, I went to the airport to pick Yuuri up. We had been apart for such a short period of time, and yet it had seemed like an eternity. Makkachin and I sat outside the terminal, watching the sea of faces as they emerged. Then, Makka barked and jumped up at the glass separating the terminal from the waiting area. _Yuuri_. He saw us. I rose and began running to the doors, desperate to have him in my arms. He was running on the other side. Our eyes never left each other's. The automatic door opened, and then there he was, holding me as tightly as I was holding him, his face pressed against my shoulder.

"Yuuri," I breathed, finally feeling complete with him in my arms. I closed my eyes and savored the scent of him, the tickle of his soft hair under my chin, the press of his chest to mine. Never; I never wanted to let him go. "I've been thinking about what I should do going forward as your coach."

"Yes, I-" he stopped, pushing back and grabbing my shoulders. "Victor, will you be my coach... until I retire?" His eyes searched my face, burning brightly with emotion. I felt a small smile curl my lips. I lifted his hand and kissed it lightly.

"That sounded almost like a marriage proposal." He blushed, then smiled back at me. "In that case, I hope you never retire," I whispered, pulling him in close once more. He started in my arms, then clutched me more tightly.

"Let's win gold together at the Grand Prix final."

"Alright. But first, let's go home."

He nodded, and we left the airport hand in hand. Makkachin rode the whole way back on Yuuri's lap. Looking at them together, I was reminded of just how fortunate I was to have both of them in my life. I was going to do everything I could to never take them for granted.

After greeting his family and having a quick meal, Yuuri was swaying on his feet. His mother and I sent him up to bed for some much needed rest. I followed, stretching out beside him and watching him sleep. Eventually, my own exhaustion caught up to me and I fell asleep running my fingers through his hair.

"So, are you ever going to tell me what brought on that debauchery after your short program?" I asked the next afternoon. Yuuri had been loosening the laces of his skates, but his hand fumbled.

"Uh, I don't know. It just...happened."

"But if I don't know what caused it, how am I supposed to repeat it?"

He looked up at me, surprised. "You'd want me to?"

I laughed. "Of course. That was incredible. I didn't now you could talk that way!" He blushed brightly, an embarrassed smile tugging one corner of his mouth up crookedly.

"Well, I don't. Usually, anyway."

"So what changed?"

"I had just gotten really into the temptress persona, and I had all that adrenaline from the program, I remembered you'd left the lube in your pocket, and then you _kissed my skate_..." He put his hand over his eyes at the memory, then peeked out at me between his fingers. I knelt on the floor at his feet and raised his skate. His hand dropped from his eyes to cover his mouth.

"Victor..."

"You called me Vitya, before, remember?" He nodded mutely. I kissed his skate. "I loved hearing you call me that. Hearing you tell me all the dirty things you were going to do to me. And I hope, someday soon, you'll do it again." After a pause, he nodded a little once more. I kissed his skate a second time. "Or maybe, you'd want me to do the same to you..." This time the nod was immediate and emphatic. His wide eyes conveyed his eagerness equally. I smirked, kissing his skate a third time, then making my way up his leg, biting teasingly on his inner thigh, nuzzling his neck and sucking softly on his earlobe. He moaned. "I'm happy to oblige, my littl _e shlyukha,_ " I whispered.

"Victor!" He shivered, trying to urge me on, but I stopped.

"You know what I want to hear." There was a brief moment of silence, and I waited. Then his voice came so softly I almost missed it.

"Vitya," he breathed. I moaned and moved my hands over him urgently, stroking, teasing, pulling aside clothes. " _Vitya_ ," he said again, spurring me on.

"I can't do everything I want right here, can't be inside you, fuck you till you call my name just like that, but for now-"

"Why not?" He looked so put out that I chuckled.

"We don't have any supplies. Or rather, one very important supply."

He groaned. "That's it, from now on we are going to keep a bottle of lube in the pockets of all our coats and trousers. And in our lockers. And bags. And-"

"Tomorrow we can go buy a hundred bottles," I assured him. "But for now," I wrapped my fingers around him and squeezed. "I want to taste you." He let out a soft cry when I lowered my head and took him between my lips. His hands came up to thread through my hair as I sucked, slowly at first and then faster and harder. When his hips bucked, I gripped them encouragingly, allowing him to thrust into my mouth. He gasped and began saying my name over and over, louder and louder until I felt his whole body clench.

"Vitya!"

A thrill of sexual pleasure shot through me and I swallowed around him eagerly. He was panting as he tried to catch his breath, jumping a little each time I rolled his spent erection around my tongue. Eventually he wiggled back and I released him. "Enough of a break now, get those skates off and let's go for a jog."

"Wha- Victor!"

"What? We can't slack off on your training now, it's only a week until the Grand Prix!"

"But what about..." he bit his lip and gestured to my obvious erection.

I kissed the top of his head and helped him take off his skate. "It'll go down eventually."

"I wanted to... uh, return the favor."

"As much as I would love that, _detka_ , I think I'll save all of this tension for later." I pulled off his other skate and then we stood.

"Later?"

" _Da._ " I leaned close to him so I could whisper in his ear. "When I get you home and can have my wicked way with you. Shall I tell you what I'm going to do?"

He stopped, closed his eyes and leaned back against me. "Tell me."

"I'm going to strip you naked and make you suck my cock. Or maybe I'll suck yours until you're begging me for release. Then I'm going to pin you to my bed and fuck you, hard and fast and rough. I'm going to mark your body as my own, fill you up, pound your ass with my cock until you come screaming my name."

Yuuri swallowed hard and licked his lips. "O-okay, a jog it is then." He started heading towards the door quickly.

"Someone's eager all of a sudden," I laughed.

"For some reason, I seem to have copious amounts of tension to work off now." He adjusted his waistband and shot me a look full of heat.

"Well then, let's not allow it to go to waste. I'll race you to the station and back."

He grinned at me. "Just try and catch me, old man."


	10. Chapter 10

_**I know I didn't do this episode justice, because there is NO way to do it justice. But hopefully I've done a decent job of detailing their thoughts and feelings. Happy Reading!**_

We left for Barcelona a day early so that Yuuri could acclimate and get extra sleep before the competition. The special costume we'd had made for the exhibition skate was finished just in time. I got always butterflies thinking of the routine we'd worked on for it. There was a part of me that still longed to shock the world, and a male/male pair skate would certainly do that. But that wasn't the only reason that the program made me nearly giddy. It felt like declaring our love to the world.

Ever since I'd said his request for me to coach him until he retired sounded like a marriage proposal, the idea had stuck in my head. I had even covertly found out his ring size. I wanted him to be mine forever, in every way possible. And while it wasn't as though we were hiding our relationship by any means, I wanted to do _more._ Our pair skate felt like more. It felt like telling the story of our romance to everyone watching.

After Yuuri made it onto the podium at the Grand Prix, we would skate his exhibition piece, and we would do it together. An affirmation of our love, and a portend of things to come. Of the future I would ask him to share with me.

We'd had to make a few slight adjustments to my own costume even though it had been less than a year since I wore it last. Yuuri joked that _I_ was becoming the piggy, and while I didn't weigh all that much more than I had at last year's Grand Prix, I seemed to have put on more muscle. Perhaps it was continuous access to Yuuri's mother's amazing cooking. Perhaps it was the lack of endless cardio work that actively competing required. Either way, it actually made the lifts in the exhibition piece far easier. We'd had a few spills practicing them – and once where Yuuri had tried to be the one lifting me, which he'd done with surprising ease but our height difference made impractical – but they had turned out altogether flawless. I could only imagine how Yurio would have reacted to watching us practice if he'd been in Japan. A significant amount of our time on the ice had been spent caressing each other instead of actually skating...

He would likely give us an earful at the banquet, if not before. I'd been hoping to see him when we checked into the hotel, but had no luck. While Yuuri collapsed into bed, I made my way up to the pool. It was cold, but not anything compared to a Russian winter. Still, I was surprised when I heard the door open and saw a figure coming towards me, but then smiled. It was Chris.

So many people misunderstood him. I knew that he came across as arrogant and sexually aggressive, but those who got to know him had quite a different story to tell. Over the years, many skaters had come to see Chris as a crazy uncle. The one you could go to for advice about anything at all. His candor and unaffected council made him the kind of person that you could trust not to lead you astray. Combined with the fact that he was wild enough to carry a stripper pole with him when he traveled, he made for one hell of a friend.

"How are things going with your little katsudon?" he asked me as I snapped pictures for him with my phone.

"As good as ever. How are things going with your secret boyfriend?" I asked back with a smirk. He made a _tsk_ ing sound and waved me off.

"Don't say it like that. You know he's no secret. He just doesn't like the spotlight, and being the boyfriend of Christophe Giacometti would definitely involve the spotlight."

"Yuuri asked me if you and I had ever been intimate a few weeks ago. I didn't tell him any details, but I did say that you were otherwise involved, so nothing had ever happened between us."

"He thought you and I had been an item?" Chris slid back into the pool and twirled his champagne flute between his fingers. "Now that would have been the power couple of the decade."

"I get the feeling that you prefer your men quiet and brunette," I said with a chuckle.

"Now, maybe. But if you'd been interested in the least back in our early days of the senior division..."

I had to laugh at his flattery. "As if I could have tempted the great Christophe, sex appeal on skates."

"Self deprecation, coming from you, Victor? That's something I haven't seen in a while. Of course I would have fallen all over myself trying to impress you if I'd thought I stood a chance. But back then you wouldn't have batted your eye at _anyone_. The ice was your only passion."

"I guess you're right."

"It made it all the more surprising that you were willing to leave the ice for your Yuuri. If I hadn't seen the looks you two passed at last year's banquet, I would have thought you'd lost your mind altogether."

"I think I'm finally in my right mind for the first time," I said with a small smile. "That wasn't a life I was living before. It was... a gilded cage I had locked myself into, lined with gold metals to distract me from the fact that I was alone and lonely."

"Until a black haired prince swept you off your feet and stole you away."

"Yuuri's hardly a thief, but even so, I'm incredibly grateful that he came into my life. I've never been this happy, Chris."

He looked at me for a long time over his glasses, then smiled and downed the rest of his champagne. "I can see that. Come on, lets get out of here before our _ljumske_ freeze off. Where is the subject of our discussion, anyway? I thought he'd be by your side this whole time."

"Back in our room. The time change got to him, so he's been napping for a few hours. Why don't you come down with me and say hi?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned. We made our way down to the double room, shivering the whole way.

"Yuuri, I'm freezing! Will you draw me a hot bath? I can't feel my toes!" I bounced from one foot to the other in the doorway, then paused when I saw he was still on the bed.

"Oh, and while you're at it, how about some coffee?" Chris added.

"You were still asleep?" Before I could be concerned, he put his phone down and smiled at me. Even though we weren't alone, even though he'd just woken up, even though we had one of the biggest competitions of his career coming up, he still had a smile that lit up his whole face just for me. I couldn't help myself. I jumped onto the bed with him and pressed my freezing skin against his. Chris joined me happily, diving in on the other side and warming his cold toes against Yuuri's legs. Yuuri shrieked and tried to wriggle away, but we held him fast, laughing like lunatics.

"And the beds are already pushed together, huh? You two don't waste any time, do you?" Chris murmured seductively. Yuuri blushed bright red and finally managed to wriggle out from between us.

"I'm going to start the bath and put on coffee," Yuuri stammered, then locked himself in the bathroom.

"You'd never guess that same man pole danced with me last year," Chris lamented. I shrugged.

"It was the champagne. I don't mention it because I think he was embarrassed after. He wouldn't even take a picture with me the next morning. If not for the video of him skating my program, I'd have thought he wanted to forget about everything relating to that night and me altogether."

"As if anyone could forget you," Chris scoffed. He scooted off the double beds and retied his robe. "Well I'll leave you to your blushing beauty, then. I've probably got someone waiting in my own room. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he sing-songed from the door. I rolled my eyes at him and laughed.

"That doesn't rule out anything at all!"

He shrugged, winked, and closed the door. Yuuri poked his head out of the bathroom when he heard the latch click. "Is he gone?"

"Yes. Back to his own room. I'm sure he'll be at the rink tomorrow for practice."

"Yes, well, seeing him on the ice is one thing. Having him in our bed is another."

"I'll agree with you there. The only person I want in my bed is you." I kissed him lightly. Yuuri wrapped his arms around my neck and clung to me, deepening the kiss. When I tried to pull back, he shook his head and pressed his hips to mine.

"I need you," he whispered against my lips.

"Yuuri, you know anything vigorous isn't a good idea right before competition." I wondered what had gotten him so worked up. He pressed his erection to my newfound one again.

"I _need_ you," he repeated. I could hear the anxiety and tension in his voice. Then, it struck me. It wasn't sex per se that he needed, but assurance, comfort, maybe even just the rush of endorphins that an orgasm would provide.

"Alright," I agreed. He eagerly stripped off his clothes and grabbed the little bottle we'd tucked into the night stand first thing upon arrival. Instead of slicking it over both of us as I normally would, I dripped it onto my hand and then wrapped my fingers around both our cocks together. Yuuri moaned and bucked his hips. The feel of his feverish, turgid skin against mine was intoxicating, and his urgency provoked my own. When his hands gripped my shoulders, and his head began to thrash on the pillow, I picked up the pace, moving faster over our cocks, stroking them together.

"Vi- Vi-" Yuuri's breathy moans drove me right to the brink. I thought for a moment he was going to call me Vitya, which made me remember suddenly and vividly the Yuuri from after the Russian Cup. I couldn't help but wonder if I would see that version of him sometime in the following days. I groaned and kissed him, hard and deep and long. He tensed under me, body tightening as his orgasm rippled through him. "Fuck!" he gasped. I chuckled as I got my breath back.

"Now that I've got us both dirty, why don't we take that bath together?"

"That sounds lovely," he said with a sultry smile.

The next morning was spent in last minute practice. We were sharing the rink with most of the other competitors, which I knew made Yuuri somewhat uncomfortable, but he held up well. When we were done, I expected him to want a quiet afternoon in – a few laps in the pool despite the temperature, maybe – and then a good night's rest. Instead, he asked me to take him sight seeing.

It spoke volumes about how unsettled he was that he wanted to go out on the town the evening before a competition. Still, I wasn't going to deny him. We stopped at as many tourist spots as we could, ate local food, and shopped until we had more bags than we could carry between us. After I bought him a new suit (which he fought me on every step, but I ignored his protests) we made our way through the stalls at a local festival. I sipped hot wine while he looked around at all the fairy lights and trinkets.

He didn't say anything, but I could tell he was seeking something. What, I didn't know. A talisman, perhaps? I was learning a lot about Japanese culture, but there was still so much yet for me to know about his traditions. I thought maybe he would look for things to set up a miniature shrine or perhaps a wishing tree, but instead he stopped at a jewelers. My lips parted in shock when he went right to the wedding rings. My mind went absolutely blank as he looked around, then pointed to one and asked to see it.

The sales assistant pulled it out, and he nodded his approval.

"What size?" she asked him. He turned to me.

"I'm not sure. Victor, do you mind if she measures?"

"O-of course," I managed to say. I swallowed, my throat suddenly seeming dry. "Which one?"

He grabbed my right hand and pulled me to the counter. "This one," he said, showing the woman my ring finger. A thrill made its way from my chest down to the tips of my toes. Did he know that in Russia, wedding rings went on the right hand? He had to know. It was a _wedding_ band he was buying, after all. The sales associate measured quickly and then put the right ring in a box while she ran his credit card. It all happened so fast that I barely had time to process it. Yuuri was turning to leave the store when I finally managed a coherent thought.

"Wait." He stopped and looked back at me expectantly, his cheeks still slightly red. "I'll take the same thing," I told the suddenly confused woman helping us. "But a size seven."

"Yes, sir." She took my card and gave me the same type of box she'd given Yuuri. When I went to his side again with it clutched in my hand, his eyes were wide.

"You knew my ring size?" he asked as we walked from the store. I nodded and looked over at him, but he kept his eyes on the street, his blush still not abating. "Y-you didn't have to buy me one, you know."

"I think these kinds of things are usually matching sets, aren't they?"

"Sometimes." He swallowed and tugged me along towards a cathedral. Once we reached the steps, he put down the bags he was carrying and I did the same. My heart was pounding, and if the blush staining his cheeks was any indication, his was too. He pulled off my glove, and with shaking fingers, slipped the ring onto my hand. "Thank you, Victor, for everything you've done. I- I wanted to get you something and this was the best thing I could think of. Anyway, I'll do my best from tomorrow on. So tell me something," he stopped to draw a breath, his jumbled speech ending with him biting his lip in nervousness.

I took his hand gently in my own. "Okay, I'll tell you something that you won't even have to think about. Tomorrow, skate in a way that's true to yourself. Show me a program that makes you proud. There's only one way to a gold metal that I know, and that's it. Whatever you decide, Yuuri, I have absolute faith in you." The ring slid onto his finger easily and he smiled up at me. It wasn't exactly the proposal that sonnets were written about, but for us, it was perfect. He needed me and I needed him. Skating had brought us together and would keep us together for years to come. I thought again about his request at the airport, to stay his coach until he retired. Marriage was a far more lasting bond than just being his coach or his competitor. It would make him mine, well and truly, for the rest of our lives.

"I love you, Victor," he whispered to me softly. I felt my heart swell and thought it might burst. Our fingers laced together.

"I know," I smiled, happiness nearly overwhelming me.

"Not just as my idol, as the skating legend, as my coach or the man who revived my career when I wanted to quit. I love you for you. Just as you are. Not Victor Nikiferov, five time consecutive world champion, but Vitya, my Vitya."

"Yuuri," I pulled him close and kissed him, not caring that we were on the street, not caring what anyone would think. There were tears falling from my eyes and I didn't try and stop them. How could he say just a handful of words and give me everything I'd ever wanted? He was my every dream and my every fantasy all rolled into one. Nothing I ever would have hoped for could match up to the reality of the man in my arms. Holding him, feeling his heart beat against my own, wearing the symbol of our unity, I felt complete. I felt as if for the first time, I'd come home.

We were walking back towards the hotel and looking for a place to eat when we spotted Mari and Minako. They were staring in the window of a restaurant eagerly and both lit up when they saw us. After several minutes of trying to understand their excited screaming, we realized it was Yurio they were watching. He was sitting with Otabek and talking, an unreserved smile on his face. _No wonder the girls were so excited_ , I thought. I knew from the pictures that had gone viral earlier that day the two of them had gone off somewhere, but it seemed they had become friends as well. Snarky, insolent Yurio and quiet, stoic Otabek. It was an interesting combination.

As we walked in, I heard them talking before they saw us. "...and then JJ called me a _lady_ as I got off the ice. As if I care what that _mudak_ thinks of me. I hope he falls on his-" Yurio noticed us and scowled. "What are you idiots doing here?" he demanded. Otabek greeted us with a small wave. I smiled and flagged down a waitress to have tables pushed together. We joined them, and Yuuri got a hold of Chris and Phitchit to come eat with us as well. Despite Yurio's protests, I knew he wasn't unhappy to have the skating family gathered. Aside from being being competition, the men at the table represented the few in the world who could truly understand us, the drive and dedication professional skating takes. Being around that kind of familiarity is relaxing in its own way.

We chatted as our food came and we began to eat. Yuuri was talking about being shy and I nodded and took a drink of my beer sagely.

"Last year, I didn't even have the courage to talk to Victor-"

I choked on my drink. "Are you seriously telling me you don't remember?" I demanded when I wiped my mouth. He looked more confused than ever.

"Huh?"

"At the banquet you got wasted on champagne and started dancing," Chris filled in helpfully. I was too shocked to speak. "Everyone was watching." Yuuri gasped in horror. I still couldn't believe it. He didn't remember? He really didn't remember it at _all?_

"It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Yurio added with a scowl. "I got dragged into a dance off. It was humiliating."

"A-a dance off? You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding."

"It's true," Chris smiled. "I danced with a pole and got naked. Well, mostly." He winked at Yuuri, who let out an indignant shriek.

"This is why I try not to drink too much," he whispered, horrified. I finally found my voice and held up my phone.

"I still have videos if you want to see." I wanted him to remember, to know what had brought us together.

"Me too, but they're not for the faint of heart."

"Are you serious?" Phichit looked eagerly at Chris' phone. "Yuuri that's so dirty!"

"We're gonna have to see those!" the girls chimed in, peeking over Pichit's shoulder.

"No, no don't look, I'm begging you!" Yuuri waved his hands frantically. I smirked and showed one of my pictures to Otabek.

"Nice moves, huh?" I couldn't help but smile at the pictures. They were of the first version of him that I'd fallen in love with. The uninhibited, wild Yuuri who'd swept me off my feet and ran off with my heart.

"Leave me my dignity!" Yuuri wailed. He sounded so upset that I relented and pulled my phone back.

"Oh? What's with the rings you boys are wearing?" Chris asked as he followed my lead and took his phone from Phichit. Everyone at the table looked over at us as one. Yuuri clapped his left hand over his right and looked on the verge of panic.

"Um, I don't know what you're talking about-"

I took pity on him and held up my own hand to take the focus off him. "Look, they match," I told everyone proudly. Phichit gaped at us for a moment, then began clapping excitedly.

"Congratulations on your marriage!"

"No-"

"Everybody, my good friend here just got married!" He let out a whoop and the other diners in the restaurant began to clap along.

"No, stop!" Yuuri was waving his hands frantically again, desperate to clear up the misunderstanding. He was rambling about the multiple meanings behind the rings, making less and less sense the more he talked. Chris just smiled at him, the girls and Phichit were staring, Yurio looked as though someone had dropped an anvil on his foot, and Otabek, surprisingly, was clapping politely.

"You've got it wrong," I said calmly, instantly capturing everyone's focus. "This is actually an engagement ring." They all fell silent, even Yuuri. Maybe he hadn't expected me to announce our engagement so soon... I decided to lighten the mood. "We'll get married when he wins the gold medal." I smirked at the ridiculous qualifier. "Right, Yuuri?"

"Uh... what did you just say?" He stared at me, then at the shocked members of our group. "Well, I, uh..." I was just about to tell him it was a joke when JJ stepped up behind us. He started making some speech about how we wouldn't be getting married since _he_ would be winning gold, and I tuned him out. Yuuri hadn't really believed that I meant it when I said we wouldn't get married till he won, had he? I thought he would know better than to take such an obvious joke seriously, but if the look on his face had been any indication, he really thought I meant it. I wanted to get us somewhere so that we could talk, as quickly as possible. There was no way I could let such a ridiculous misunderstanding stay between us.

The rest of the group seemed inclined to help me, because almost as one they rose and paid their bills. The fact that they were eager to get away from JJ was just a bonus. We headed towards the hotel, and I steered Yuuri and I to our room in record time.

When the door was closed behind us, Yuuri set down the many bags he'd been carrying and began mechanically taking off his clothes- coat, gloves, shoes, all without saying a word.

"Yuuri..."

"We should get to bed," he finally mumbled. "Early day tomorrow."

"Yuuri!"

He looked up at the sharpness of my tone, and when his eyes finally met mine, they were huge and... frightened. He tried to turn away but I caught his arms. "I'm fine," he choked out. "Just tired. It's been a long day-"

"I didn't mean it like that," I whispered in his ear, pulling him against me. He sniffled a little and shook his head.

"It's fine, really. I'm going to win anyway, right?" His voice trembled and it broke my heart.

"Of course you are," I assured him. "But that doesn't matter." I tipped his chin up and kissed his lips softly. "I shouldn't have made such a thoughtless joke, and so soon after a beautiful moment between us. I'm sorry, Yuuri."

"A joke?"

"Yes. A tactless one. I'm going to marry you no matter what happens. Whether you win or not doesn't have anything to do with how I feel about you. I love you, Yuuri. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm so sorry for making you think anything less." I held him close and kissed the top of his head. "It was incredibly insensitive of me and I hope you'll forgive me."

"I- of course I do. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing. If I fail out there tomorrow, if I never do any better than this, it reflects on you-"

"I don't give a damn about that! You think I care what anyone else in this whole world thinks of me? You're the only one whose opinion matters, Yuuri. And you're happy, aren't you?"

"Yes," he breathed, starting to relax a little.

"Then that's all that matters. I don't think you realize how happy you've made me, too. Nothing will change that. And when you're ready, we'll get married. Not because of a medal, not because of how far we've come as coach and skater, but because we _belong_ together."

"Okay." He smiled up at me, his confidence restored. I let out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. I was halfway through taking off my shoes when I remembered my shock from earlier.

"So you really don't remember the banquet last year at _all_?"

Yuuri's ears turned pink. "No," he moaned. "I can't believe I got drunk and acted like that."

"I didn't mind one little bit," I purred at him. His jaw dropped in shock. "What?"

"It's just... I was so... brazen!"

"Indeed you were. You asked me to coach you if you won the dance off. And of course you won."

"I- I- I asked _you_ to _coach me_?"

I nodded while he stared at me in horror. Not the best time to mention that he did it half naked and while grinding against me erotically. "If you don't remember that, it had to have confused the hell out of you when I showed up in Japan and said I was going to be your coach."

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't about to question a gift from the gods," he mumbled.

"And how close I was to you from the beginning... you had to have thought I was some kind of depraved pervert for being so bold with you."

"No no no, just- well I thought you were very... forward. That's why I didn't realize you were flirting at first. I didn't think you could actually be flirting with me of all people, so I assumed you were just like that all the time."

"Not by a long shot," I said with a smirk. "And what did you think I meant when I told you that you had a better chance with Chris than I did? I meant because of the pole dancing you two did together. He was impressed."

"I don't know! I thought it was a joke or something."

" _Blyad_ , I really made an ass of myself, didn't I?"

"Honestly, I was just so awed to see you in my home that you could have said or acted almost any way you wanted and I wouldn't have complained."

"Well that night was one of the best nights of my life. I hope someday we can give you too much champagne again and dance together."

"Not at the banquet again, please god," Yuuri implored.

"No," I laughed and pulled him into bed. "Not at the banquet. That side of you is for my eyes only now."


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning I rose early and walked down to the beach. I was reminded of my day at the beach with Yuuri back in Hasetsu. Of how happy I'd been when he said all he wanted was for me to be me. How much it had meant to me that for once, someone wasn't expecting something of me, and I could be utterly myself. I owed Yuuri so much. More than I could ever repay.

I watched the way the morning sunlight reflected off my ring, still hardly able to believe that the man who'd become the answer to all my unsaid prayers wanted to marry me. To stay by my side for the rest of our lives. I was overcome with it for a moment.

And then the moment was ruined when a small, angry foot connected sharply with my back. Only my skater's balance and the extra muscle I'd developed in my time with Yuuri kept me on my feet. The kick came again, my assailant apparently upset that he hadn't been able to budge me.

"Victor Nikiferov is as good as dead," Yurio snarled behind me. I stayed still for a moment, making sure my face was placid. Despite his manner, I knew that Yurio's anger was not malicious. "I don't get what makes you so happy about babysitting that stupid pig." The look on his face was one of hurt, of loss. I knew that there was more to his words, so much more going on beneath the surface of his anger. Still, I didn't like him insulting Yuuri like that.

"Did you want to compete against me?" I asked, leaning towards him.

"So arrogant," he sneered. "You may not realize it, Victor, but not all skaters look up to you. Just give it up already, old man." My temper began to smolder, despite my better judgment. I grabbed his chin, but that didn't stop him from speaking. "The pig will fail and you'll see the ring you got from him is garbage. I'm going to win this. I'll show you just how incompetent he is."

For a moment, a small, single moment, I wanted to _hurt_ him. My fingers tightened fractionally on his jaw. How _dare_ he say something so cruel, about Yuuri, who'd never done anything but accept and support him. How dare he insult the love we shared, the connection and closeness that Yuuri and I had gone without for years in sacrifice to our sport. In that moment, the differences in our size became starkly clear, my 180 centimeters dwarfing his 160, my newly developed muscles making his slender frame seem fragile and so... breakable.

And then the moment was gone, and my anger at his ugly words about my relationship with Yuuri had gone with it. He was a fifteen year old boy who resented that the man whose every movement he'd wanted to emulate had made a decision he couldn't understand. Despite how far he'd come in his comprehension of agape, he could not fathom why I would want to pick Yuuri over skating, as he saw it. He still thought I was giving up, thought Yuuri was stealing me away from skating.

Maybe, in another decade, if he gave his body and soul to the ice as I had, he would understand that I had gained so much more being Yuuri's coach than I'd lost. But I hoped that he didn't follow my footsteps. I didn't want that life for him, the long, lonely days, the endless drive to go further, do better, win and win until even that wasn't enough. Even though I was angry at him, I wouldn't wish that on him. Instead, I smiled a little.

"Let me go," he spat, and pushed me away. I released him and turned back toward the ocean. Yurio couldn't understand. In a way, he was much like I was at his age, wrapped so deeply in his own resentments that he couldn't possibly see beyond them. But he would learn. In time, he would see that my decisions about skating didn't have anything to do with him, or national pride, or even my own career. _Life and love_. Things I'd never allowed time for, never really understood myself. Perhaps things could be different for Yurio, that he could have a better example to look to. Mine and Yuuri's. One of happiness and fulfillment. He started to walk away, then turned back. "This place reminds me of Hasetsu, you know?"

And there it was, the depths in him that he tried so desperately to hide. Did he miss Japan? Those days of working with Yuuri and I, of us being almost like a real family? "I was thinking the same thing," I replied with a smile.

I walked back to the hotel slowly, thinking about what Yuuri and I would do after the final. The one thing I knew for certain was that we would be together. That was what mattered most. As skaters, as partners, as lovers, sometime soon as spouses. I just wanted him, whatever way I could have him. The fact that he wanted me the same was a new miracle every day.

Back in the hotel I sat on the bed for a long time, just watching him sleep. His chest rose and fell softly, his arm was thrown out across the mattress as if seeking me, even in repose. With him by my side, I had everything I'd ever wanted. It was as if the light in him washed away all the darkness that had surrounded me. The loneliness, the disappointment, the despair that had struck like a venomous snake time and again, all the things that I'd hid behind an easy smile and flighty disposition. He was my future. My hope for a better life, a _real_ life, finally.

His eyes fluttered open and his hand reached out to me. "Victor?" His voice was rough from sleep, but still the sweetest sound to my ears.

"Good morning," I whispered, stretching out along side him and kissing his forehead softly. His lips curled into a smile and he snuggled closer. "I love you, Yuuri."

"I love you too." He looked up at me, eyes searching mine. "Is everything alright?"

"It's fine. Better than fine. I just... I just wanted you to know that you mean everything to me. You've given me so much by letting me into your life, into your heart. You make me..." I stopped, nearly overcome with emotion. "Happy," I managed to say, closing my eyes and holding him tight. "So very happy."

"Victor..." Yuuri wrapped his arms around me and stroked my hair softly. "You're the one who's given me so much. It's like I was wandering aimlessly before you came into my life, and now..." I nodded, shocked at how similarly we felt.

"Be mine," I implored raggedly. "Whatever else... just be mine."

"I am," he promised. "Forever."

The clutch of desperation that had taken hold in my chest eased. I sniffed a little, surprised at how emotional I seemed to be getting lately. But then, I had twenty years of repressed feelings suddenly surging to the fore. Maybe I was overdue for a cry or two. "Time to get up," I manged to say when I had composed myself. "You're going to skate your best short program ever today."

"You think so?" He pushed up to his elbows, the blanket falling low enough to display his well defined chest and abs. I forced myself not to get any dirty ideas.

"I know so. Now go shower, then I'll do your hair."

He grinned and scooted off the bed, treating me to a scandalous and breathtaking view of his ass as he walked naked to the bathroom.

I purposely didn't wear gloves to the rink, so that my ring would be exposed to gleam under the bright lights. They were stuffed in my pockets, along with a small bottle of lube in case _Eros mode_ Yuuri – dear lord _please_ – made an appearance. He skated over to me after the warm up and I gripped his hand in my own, raising it to kiss his ring. There weren't any other words needed. He knew the rest. Knew how I felt for him, the faith I had in him.

His program passed in a blur of graceful, black encased limbs, smoldering looks, and Eros personified. Before I knew it, he was skating back towards me, his every movement heavy with emotion. At the edge of the rink, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight. He buried his face against my shoulder. "You did wonderfully," I assured him.

He nodded, obviously still unhappy with himself, despite his mostly successful landing of the quad flip. We made our way to the kiss and cry, watching as his scores were totaled. It was a good one, not his best, but still high. I kept my arm around him and we watched Phichit skate his program.

Yurio took the ice after kicking us out of the kiss and cry, and we were whisked apart for interviews. When I escaped my own, I moved to the stands to watch the end of Yurio's program. Much to my surprise, he broke my record. No matter what else he was, Yurio would always be a fierce competitor, and a fantastically talented skater. His growth in the last year alone proved that. More than ever, I wanted to keep him from making the same mistakes I did, from isolating himself so much that the only thing left was the ice, which he would one day find to be a cold, lifeless companion.

Yuuri came up behind me and we took seats together, watching the rest of the skaters. Chris was up next and glided across the rink with his usual finesse. I smiled, knowing that he was likely hoping that Yuuri would get drunk at the banquet again. Then, just as Chris was finished and Otabek was taking the ice, Yurio settled himself down into a seat behind us.

"Davai!"

Otabek looked up at him with those unfathomable eyes and flashed a thumbs up. I was shocked, as much at Yurio's display of support for a fellow skater, as I was at Otabek's response to it. Just how good of friends had they become in the last few days? Perhaps Yurio was already on a better path than I had been at his age, if he was finding someone he could cheer for. If my suspicion needed any further confirmation, Otabek's death stare at JJ as he left the rink would have been enough. Yurio telling him how much JJ's taunts at the last competition bothered him had obviously made Otabek furious with the man. Anger like that didn't come from idle acquaintanceship with a fellow competitor.

My estimation of Otabek rose. That kind of loyalty was admirable and I knew Yurio would need support like that that if his changes through puberty were going to be as difficult as my own had been.

JJ started out like every other time, then faltered. It was painful to watch, perhaps even more so than Yuuri's had been the year before. JJ's confidence always seemed ingrained naturally, going hand in hand with his talent so flawlessly that he was nearly untouchable. It made him seem cocky, so arrogant that it alienated him from the other skaters. Seeing him fall so low was a shock, it was cutting for every skater seeing it, knowing the pain he had to be feeling.

Slowly, I realized he was singing the words to his song as he skated, and the crowd joined him in support. When it ended, there was silence as he made his way to the kiss and cry. Stunned, pregnant silence. Then, a single voice rose from the stands and began to chant his name. All eyes turned to see his fiance cheering for him. Soon, everyone around her was chanting as well, then the whole arena.

Despite my own feelings of vague distaste for JJ, it was heartwarming to hear. It was a reminder, that despite our varied backgrounds, despite the fierce competition, there was a single drive that joined us all. A thread of understanding that ran through everyone there, of the passion we shared for skating, our continuous strive to better ourselves.

However unexpected, it was a beautiful note to end the day on.

We lingered at the rink long after everyone else had left. Hand in hand, we looked out onto the ice. More than once, my mind had wandered to skating again. When I'd left to become Yuuri's coach, I hadn't truly planned on returning. No, there hadn't been a concrete decision, but I'd known deep down that it would lead to this. And yet, now that I had gotten here, the possibility of going back tantalized me. For the first time, the idea of skating again appealed to me. Of competing against Yurio, the ever evolving monster that had just beat my world record, against the others who'd shown so much growth, and against my Yuuri. Sharing the ice with him as a competitor, drawing him out further and further, driving him to greater heights.

Could I do that while still coaching him? Perhaps I would try. If it turned out to be too much, I could always retire officially and focus totally on Yuuri again. It would probably make him happy, having me compete against him once more, this time as lovers instead of strangers.

He tugged at my hand, and we rose. I'd almost forgotten my hope that _Eros mode_ Yuuri would show up, but suddenly my heart was hammering in my chest and my cock was half hard. Yuuri led me silently towards the locker room. Inside, he locked the door even though everyone had already gone. His eyes met mine, and yet again I was surprised to see a different part of him. This wasn't my shy beginner or my eager learner. It wasn't the seductive lover I'd met in Russia. The man before me was determined, driven, and _hungry_.

In two steps he was at my side, his mouth descending on mine in a deep kiss. Before I could let myself be drawn into it, he was moving down, kissing my ears, my neck, my collar above my hastily loosened tie. Then he dropped to his knees in front of me and rested his forehead against the placket of my slacks almost reverently. I could feel his hot breath even through the fabric. He nuzzled me, making my body jump to full attention in barely a moment. With steady hands, he unbuckled my belt and shifted my pants out of the way so that my erection sprang free.

"Yuuri-" I was cut off as his mouth engulfed me, taking me deep. My gasp turned into a groan and my hands slid into his hair. He drove me higher and higher, his enthusiasm taking me to the brink more quickly than I could have thought possible. "Yuuri, I'm-" My breath hitched, his tongue circling the head of my cock and sliding beneath it. He drew back and I stared down at him, a flush staining my cheeks.

"Not yet," he murmured, taking my hand and pulling me down to my knees. In one quick move, I was down and turned away from him. Belatedly, I realized that without his skates on, this was the best way to even our heights. A thrill shot through me. "I want to be inside you. Is that what you want, too, Vitya?"

I moaned, unashamed of how excited he made me. "Yes. Please, yes." My hand fumbled in the pocket of my jacket until I pulled out the bottle there and passed it back to him.

"I need you," he whispered.

"I need you too, Yuuri. I'm so ready for you."

He paused, and I wondered if he hadn't been trying to convey something deeper than lust. Something about our relationship, or our skating. But then his hand slid down my back and he pressed inside me with slick fingers, and all other thought was lost. I pushed back against him eagerly, trying to show him just how ready I was for him, how much I needed him. When I felt his cock nudge against me, I arched my back and shivered in anticipation.

"You're mine, Vitya. Right now, in this moment, you are totally and utterly mine."

"Yes," I gasped, my body singing with delight at being filled by him. "Always, Yuuri. Always."

"Tell me," he ordered, thrusting into me slowly but steadily.

"I'm yours," I breathed, throbbing and shuddering.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, Yuuri, only yours. Always." My words came between thrusts, breath hitching erratically as his pace increased until I was ready to come from the internal stimulation alone. Whatever restraint he'd been clinging to snapped, and suddenly he was driving into me hard and fast. His arm slid beneath me to grip my cock as he fucked me. I cried out, nearly seeing stars at the intensity of the sensation. "Yes!" It was almost too much, too overwhelming, the pleasure stealing along my nerve endings with the force of a tidal wave. One more thrust, then two, and then I was flying into oblivion, barely registering Yuuri's shout behind me as he climaxed as well.

Slowly, as if reluctant to let go of the euphoria, my body relaxed and my heart slowed. Yuuri had already put his clothes back in place, and helped me with my own gently. I thought we were going to leave without a word, but he stopped me against the door and hugged me tight. "Are you alright," he asked softly against my neck. I nodded.

"More than."

"Okay, then. Lets get back to the hotel so you can get a shower."

"You did make a mess of me," I replied with a smile. His own was a little slow in response, and I began to wonder if something was wrong.

"Are _you_ alright?" I asked as we hailed a cab back to the hotel. He nodded. "Are you sure? You seem... preoccupied."

"Fine, I promise. Just thinking."

"Can I know what about?"

"Soon," he promised. "I just want to... I just need a little bit. Then we'll talk."

I watched him the rest of the drive back, and all the way up to our room. Reluctantly, I left him to shower, promising to be quick. He was looking at his phone when I returned in a robe, drying my hair with a towel around my neck.

"Looks like Minako's at a bar with Celestino," he said with a smile.

"Wow, we'd better stay away from that place." I smiled, but it was thin. Worry was taking its toll on me. "Well anyway, what's up? You said you wanted to talk. So?"

"Right." He put his phone aside and looked at me. The finality in his eyes scared me. "After the final, let's end this." My heart skipped a beat. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. It was as if my worst nightmare had jumped into horrifying reality.

"W-what?" I managed to gasp. The pain threatened to eat me alive and I tried to push it back, to think of another explanation than that the man I love was leaving me.

"You've already done more than enough for me. More than I could have dreamed of. My final season was my best one yet." He looked up at me, and through the haze of panic I realized he was talking about skating. Not our love. Still, it hurt. So much. "It's because of you. Thank you for everything, so much. Thank you for being my coach." He bowed his head at me, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Nothing I could have done would have stopped them from falling so I didn't even try. My head and my heart were so full, overwhelmed by the emotions spiraling through me. "Victor?" His soft voice made me look up, spurred me to speak.

"Damnit, that's disappointing." I blinked and felt more tears fall down my cheeks. "I didn't expect this from you, of all people. Something so selfish." Didn't he realize that this was something that involved both of us? That he was making decisions about our lives without even talking to be about it? He was taking away the thing that had brought me so much happiness.

"Selfish or not, it's my decision. I'm retiring."

What could I say to that? He'd clearly made up his mind, without consulting me either as his coach or his future husband. I stared at the carpet, at the ugly maroon pattern curling across it. Yuuri's hand rose up to brush my hair back. "Yes Yuuri?" I demanded. "What are you looking at?"

"I- I'm just surprised to see you crying."

"I'm mad, okay? What _should_ I do?" I knocked his hand aside and glared at him through my tears.

"You're the one who said it was only until the Grand Prix Final!"

"I thought you'd eventually decide you wanted my help for longer than that." Hadn't everything we'd been through in the last months reinforced that? I'd never once even hinted that I wanted our coaching relationship to end. When he'd asked me to coach him until he retired, I'd told him I hoped he never would. Why did he seem to think that I wanted anything else?

"It's okay. You don't need to worry about me. This way you can make your come-"

"Stop! I don't want to hear it! How can you tell me to return to the ice when you're retiring?" I rose and gripped his shoulder. How could he think that this was what I wanted? For him to give up his career in hopes that I would go back to skating? Didn't he realize that I didn't want to compete if I couldn't do it with him?

"I've been holding you back for too long already, Victor! Don't you see that? The longer you coach me, the harder it will be for you to return. I can't be the reason you retire."

"If I never skated competitively again, it wouldn't be because of you, Yuuri. It would be because I made this decision a year ago. I knew when I first got on the plane to Japan that I was very likely never going to compete again, and I was fine with that."

"How can you say that? You're still at the height of your career. You could keep skating, keep winning, for-"

"And what else?" I demanded. "Keep winning metals that had lost their meaning to me, keep pushing on despite the fact that I'd lost my passion for skating? I wasn't _happy_ , Yuuri! Not until-" I stopped, sinking heavily onto the bed next to him. "Not till you."

"Victor-"

"Don't. You've obviously made up your mind. There's no sense trying to comfort me after the fact."

"I'm not cutting you out of my life," he tried to reason. "I love you. I want to be with you, to marry you and spend my life with you. I'll support you as you continue on."

"Just not as my student or as a fellow competitor. I don't want to return like that, Yuuri. I won't."

"So if I quit, you quit, is that it?" his voice rose in sudden anger.

"Tell me why I should stay," I asked, sliding my hand to the nape of his neck and pulling him close. "You were the only thing that inspired me, the only thing that made me want to continue on in the skating circuit at all. I don't want to go back to a cold and empty rink, to a world without you in it."

"You'll never have to," he assured me. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter what, I'll be here every step of the way."

"Just... just promise me you'll think on it, Yuuri."

"I have-"

"Please." I kissed him softly, silencing his protest. "Please don't make a final decision. Not yet."

"Fine, then," he agreed. "After the Grand Prix. You think about it too. About what you want to do with your career. Okay?"

"Okay." I let out a sigh and laid back on the bed. Yuuri slipped out of his clothes and joined me, snuggling up under my arm.

"I love you, you know."

"I know. And I love you. So very, very much." I kissed the top of his head. We fell asleep like that, holding each other close, contemplating our futures together.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day day's events would be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. Yuuri's performance score would be the record for years to come. I'd been inspired yet again by him, enough to make me decide that I would, indeed, return to skating. There were new heights to attain, heights _created_ by the man I loved. And I couldn't help but reach for them.

The look on his face when I told him had been beautiful. His wide eyes shining in admiration, as if he wasn't the one who'd just broken a record, just moved into first place. He was so genuinely happy that I felt as though my heart might overflow with joy. If only I could get him to join me...

While Otabek skated, I slipped into the back to catch up with Yakov and Yurio. They seemed equally surprised at my decision to return. Yurio gripped my arm, his agitation clear.

"Wait, does this mean the pork cutlet bowl is going to retire?"

"Well that is entirely up to him. He said he was going to make his decision after the final." The look of horror on Yurio's face told me all I needed to know. Somehow, over the last year, the idea of Yuuri quitting had become unimaginable to him. Under all his bluster, all his sniping, was a boy who'd grown to care about more than just himself. A boy who didn't want the skaters he idolized to quit. I pulled him in for a hug. "Don't make that decision easy for him, Yurachka. Show him why he needs to compete," I whispered to him. He pulled back and nodded at me once, then turned and walked towards the rink.

As he stepped onto the ice, I heard Yuuri call out to him from the stands. Otabek called out as well, and he responded with a thumbs up. I smiled at the uncharacteristic gesture and turned to make my way back to Yuuri.

Yurio's performance was everything I hoped it would be. At every turn, he pushed himself until it was crystal clear that he was laying down a challenge for Yuuri. He couldn't take his eyes off the younger skater, and not just to cheer him on. I could see the wheels in his head turning, his mind racing along to all the possibilities that the future could hold. When the last points were totaled and Yurio beat his score by less than a tenth of a point, butterflies took off in my stomach. There was a chance. All I had to do was wait for his decision.

After the medals were handed out and the clapping finally died down, he skated over to me and held it out to me. "It's not a gold medal, but..."

"Hm," I said with a smirk, cocking my head. "That's nice, but I'm not going to kiss your medal unless it's gold. Sorry!"

He grimaced at me, and I just smiled back. _You'll need to win a gold, now,_ I thought. "Oh, I was really looking forward to kissing that gold medal. How can I ever recover from my failure as a coach?" It took less than two steps to reach him and lean down so that he was tipped back away from me in shock. I snickered mischievously. "You wouldn't have any suggestions, would you, Yuuri?" As if my playful sexual banter wasn't clear enough, I leaned closer. "Something that might excite me..." He gasped, eyes wide. "Well? Anything come to mind?" My own mind was filled with images of him after competitions, forceful and commanding, but I tried to focus on the bigger goal. Our future careers were at stake.

"Ah, well... I, uh..." He suddenly pushed me back, overbalancing us both until I sat back on the floor. He threw his arms around me. "Victor! I want to stay in competition with you for one more year." Joy surged through me. He pulled back so that he was looking down at me, his face set in determination. "And this time, I'll win gold!"

I could only blink up at him for a moment, hardly believing my luck. Then, I surged up to him. "Perfect! Well, almost!"

"Huh?"

I chuckled. "Even for me, it's not going to be easy to make a full comeback while also staying on as your coach." I slipped his medal over his head. "In exchange, I expect five World Championships, at the very least." I smiled, wondering if I had ever felt so happy, so fulfilled. Yuuri smiled back at me, tears in his eyes.

"Okay," he agreed. He wrapped his arms around me and we held each other for a long time. People streamed around us, going about their lives and moving on while we preserved the moment.

"We're going to have to get moving if we want to change before the exhibition," I murmured into his hair, making no move to get up despite my words.

"I guess we do have one more thing to show the world this year, don't we?"

"If you still want."

"Of course I do." He ran his hand through my hair and kissed my lips lightly. "We didn't do all that work for nothing," he teased.

"Well, then, why don't we go and shock the world together?"

Both the announcement of our plans for the future, as well as our pair skate exhibition did indeed shock the world.

Yuuri moved to Russia with me, so that we could train together at my home rink. The apartment that had seemed cold and lonely for so long was suddenly filled to overflowing with Makkachin and Yuuri both there. Somehow, we made time for romance, even when things were hectic and demanding. His first day at the new rink left Yuuri overwhelmed – not that I was surprised with how many unique and forceful personalities were there – and we spent that entire evening cuddling together to unwind.

It was an ebb and flow, good days and bad ones, challenges that we rose to meet and others we turned away from. With my inspiration back, though, nothing seemed impossible. No matter what else happened, as long as I had Yuuri at my side, we could make it through.

And make it we did. Over and over again, we surprised the world, taking the dream we shared to greater heights than anyone could ever imagine. And together, we shaped the future the way we wanted it to be. Hand in hand, for the rest of our lives.

 _ **Thank you for reading! Don't turn off your TV just yet, though, because these are the credits, and we all know there's going to be a little more after... I'd originally intended to write a sequel to this story, outlining what happens next, for Victor and Yuuri, and for Otabek and Yurio (I joined the ship after a long internal battle!) but instead of a full sequel I thought the tales I had yet to tell would be better told as a series of One Shots. So they will follow - perhaps at a slower pace than the main body of the story was posted - but hopefully they will satisfy. I've taken as many headcannons as I felt like I reasonably could and incorporated them, so there should be lots of fun ideas!**_


	13. Risk & Reward-Yurio's Greatest Challenge

_**And now, for something totally different! This is Yurio centric, with some angst, lots of swearing, and still plenty of fluff from Victor and Yuuri. It picks up after the GPF and goes forward several years, but in bits and pieces. Oh, and there's Otayuri ahead, so beware!**_

 **Risk and Reward**

His body was changing, and he knew it. The fact that it had waited as long as it had was miracle enough. It wasn't something that could be denied forever, no matter how desperately he wished it. So what was he supposed to do? Taking the world by storm winning the gold at the Grand Prix Final his first year in the senior division wasn't enough. He wanted to take it again, to beat both Yuuri as well as Victor, who was making up for lost time as if he'd never even stepped off the ice.

At first, he'd let the despair swamp him, lashing out at anyone who came close enough to be caught in his crossfire. And then, from that rage, had been borne desperation. He'd spent hours on the internet, looking up various methods of suppressing hormones, even longer at the library reading through boring medical texts instead of practicing. But what would be the point of all the practice in the world if his body was going to betray him?

When he'd armed himself with all the knowledge there was to be had on the subject, he went to Yakov. The conversation had gone much like he'd expected it would. The older Russian dismissed him at first, played off his plan as a wild scheme that he would never really carry out. But once he saw the determination in Yurio's eyes, he weakened. It wasn't that he didn't care for Yurio. He cared for all his skaters, he always had. But if Yurio was going to do this crazy thing either way, wasn't it better that it was under careful supervision? That he would be there to help if things got troublesome? And who was he to decide a skater's future? Few of his students actually listened to him on these kinds of decisions. It was what made them the best. A drive, a single minded purpose that spurred them on when all logic pointed them in another direction.

Yurio was on his way to becoming the next Victor Nikiforov. In a few years, when Vitya retired, Yurio would rise as Russia's premier skater. Could he do half so well in a cumbersome, lumbering body? Was it fair to force him to?

With reluctance, Yakov had given in. He made it clear that he didn't approve, but he wouldn't stand in the boy's way. That was all Yurio needed. He ordered the pills from a foreign web site that didn't ask too many questions and had them shipped to his apartment. As soon as they arrived, he could start taking them, and nothing would have to change.

* * *

Victor and Yuuri were on the ice, but not really skating. They danced around each other, sweeping in close and then winging away, circling nearer and nearer, then brushing ever so briefly against each other. They claimed it was for a new exhibition piece, but Yurio knew better. They couldn't keep that lovey-dovey crap to themselves, and it was spilling out onto practice time.

Their every smile struck him like a blow, crushing and enraging. What right did they have to be so happy? The piggy hadn't reached his goal of a gold medal, and Victor Fucking Nikiforov the ex-hero of Russia was hardly more than a wash up. They should be desperate to improve, spending their every waking moments clawing their way to the top. Their happiness disgusted him. And the fact that they mattered more to each other than the winning did, continued to anger him.

He stormed off the ice and back to the locker room, changing out of his clothes quickly. He stripped off his training shirt and had his regular top over his head before he spotted it. His stomach dropped. A single blonde hair had sprouted on his chest, longer and coarser than the peach fuzz that used to be the only body hair he'd ever had. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ His hands shook as he dug through his locker to find the packet of pills. They weren't working yet. They needed to work _now_. There wasn't any more time. If one pill a day wasn't enough, he would take two, or three. He would take a dozen if that was that he needed!

"Hey, Yurio, I hope you don't mind-" Victor stopped, looking from Yurio to the packet of pills he clutched in his hand like a lifeline. "What are those? Are you not feeling well?"

"None of your fucking business," Yurio snarled. "Get the hell out of here, you has been."

"If you're sick, you should be resting at home," Victor admonished, coming closer. Yurio turned his back and popped two pills from the foil.

"I'm fine!"

"What are these, then? Cold tablets?" Victor pulled them from Yurio's hand before he could stuff them back in his locker. He scanned the tiny label on the packet, then looked up with wide eyes. Yurio glared at him and purposely put the pills in his mouth. Victor lurched forward, clamping his hand on Yurio's jaw to force it open. He ignored the snapping teeth and shoved his hand inside, trying to fish the pills out.

"Did you tell him what-" Yuuri froze in the door way and gaped at the two of them. "What the hell is going on?"

"He took pills. Dangerous ones. Take that packet and keep it away from him." Victor never turned his eyes away from Yurio, fingers delving mercilessly into his mouth until he found the pills and got them out.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" Yurio shoved Victor with all his might, but Victor didn't move. "And give those back! They're mine!"

"Not any more, they're not!" He gripped Yurio's shoulders and shook him. "What the hell were you thinking? Messing with your body like that could permanently damage it, or even kill you!"

"That's a chance I'm willing to take," Yurio snapped. "It's none of your damn business what I do. You're not my coach."

"Victor, what's he talking about?" Yuuri looked between the two of them, unsure what exactly was happening.

"Not your coach? Is that what it takes to get through to you? Does that mean Yakov knows about this?" His eyes flashed dangerously, but Yurio either didn't see it, or didn't care.

"Yes, he knows. And he knows that I'll do anything it takes to keep winning. Like you used to!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Victor hissed. He pushed Yurio in Yuuri's direction and stalked out of the locker room. "Don't let him go," he ordered Yuuri. Yuuri's hand closed unquestioningly on Yurio's shoulder. "Yakov!" The angry shout echoed around the rink. "Yakov, get out here, _now_!"

"Let me go," Yurio demanded, but Yuuri ignored him. They watched from the door of the locker room as Yakov emerged from his office and met Victor in the hall.

"What do you want, Victor? I have actual students to work with, so I won't waste my time on-"

He was cut off as Victor shoved him against the wall and leaned his forearm on the older man's throat. For several tense moments, Yuuri was afraid that Victor would hurt his former coach, truly injure him. The anger in his gaze was burning out of control.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded. Yakov tried to push Victor off, but couldn't.

"What are you talking about?"

"Yurio, you bastard! Were you the one who told him to take those pills? To risk his life to try and keep his body from changing?"

Suddenly, Yakov stopped struggling. Something like shame crossed his face before he turned away as much as Victor's grip on him would allow. "This is none of your concern, Victor."

"The hell it's not! Are you really so desperate to recreate my success that you don't care if the process kills him? Have you stopped thinking about anything beyond your reputation?"

"Of course I care!" Yakov snapped. "You think I want him to take those damn pills? I told him not to. I warned him they were dangerous. But did he listen to me? Do any of you ingrates listen to me? No! If he's going to do what he wants either way, then I thought it would be safer if I-"

"Safer? There's nothing safer about this." Victor pushed himself away from Yakov with a look of disgust. "Just how hard did you try and talk him out of it? How much effort did you put in before going along with this?" Yakov flinched. "Clearly not enough."

"If you think you can talk him out of it, be my guest. But when you find him as stubborn as an ox, you'll see that helping is the safest option."

"Like hell I will." Victor turned his back on the man and started back towards the locker room. Yuuri watched him come, aching for the pain he saw on his fiance's face. He'd been able to piece together the basics of what was going on, and he was shocked to the core. That Yurio would take such drastic measures to stall his puberty, that Yakov had agreed to go along with it, and that Victor had unleashed such a fierce lash of anger on both of them. "Get his things, Yuuri. We're taking him back to our place."

"No you're not!" Yurio shouted indignantly. Yuuri gathered Yurio's things while Victor gripped the front of his shirt.

"You have no idea what you're playing at, little boy. If you want to try and throw your life away for this, you're going to have to get through me to do it."

* * *

The three of them rode in total silence back to the apartment. Victor's anger swirled in his mind like storm clouds, threatening to explode at any moment. He couldn't believe that Yurio had been willing to take such extreme measures just to keep skating the way he had been. And that Yakov, who had always been so level headed, so compassionate in his own gruff way, had been willing to allow it. He'd determined long ago that he wouldn't let Yurio make the same mistakes he had, wouldn't let the boy sell his soul to the ice and face the loneliness that came along with it.

Yuuri kept glancing over at Victor, his concern mounting. He'd never seen his lover so angry, not even when he'd told him he was retiring at the Grand Prix. Victor was always so level headed, cheerful at the best of times and only a little morose at the worst. Not once had Yuuri ever seen his temper snap, and certainly nothing like what he'd just witnessed. Still, he couldn't blame Victor. The pills were obviously dangerous, and Yakov had known about them. Of course Victor had been angry at them both. Yuuri wanted to hold Victor, to tell him that they would figure this mess out together. And maybe, when the dust settled and everything had gone back to normal, he could ask to meet that forceful, dominating Victor in the bedroom...

Yurio sat between them sulking like a petulant child. Did they really think they could tell him what to do? Always so arrogant, Victor and his big, stupid head. But they couldn't watch him all the time. When they went on their merry way and fucked off like everyone else in his life always did, he would go back and start taking the pills again. Twice as many.

"You're going to be sleeping in the guest room for the foreseeable future," Victor said flatly when they arrived. "The window is too far to climb out of, and Makkachin will bark if you try to sneak out. I'm sure Yuuri has some pajamas that will fit you for tonight, and tomorrow, I'll go and get you more clothes."

"You're going to keep me prisoner here?" Yurio demanded.

"If that's what it takes," Victor snapped back. "If I need to watch you every moment of every day, then I will. I refuse to allow you to risk your _life_ for something so stupid!"

"I'll make your life hell then," he threatened. "You won't get a moment's rest. I won't stop until I've taken so much of your time that you've destroyed your own career as well as the pork cutlet bowl's. Is that what you want?"

"What I want? No, it's not. But your health is more important to me than this season's standings." Victor turned to Yuuri, wishing this was something they could talk about privately, that he could explain. "If you need to-"

"Don't even say it," Yuuri interrupted. "Of course this comes first. I'll be by your side every step of the way. Both of your sides."

"Y-you can't-" Yurio looked between them, horrified to realize that there were tears forming in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, tried to will them back. "You can't do that." He tried to yell but it came out as a whisper. "You can't care that much."

"We can, and we do. Go wash your face before dinner. Victor is making stroganoff." Yuuri went to Yurio's side, pulled him in for a quick one armed hug, then ushered him towards the bathroom. It was all done before Yurio could protest, and the next moment he found himself in the privacy of the bathroom. His shoulder was warm where Yuuri's arm had wrapped around it. The tears that had spilled down his cheeks had to have been noticed, but neither man had made a single comment about them.

Through the door, he could hear the low murmur of voices, then pans clanging together. Was it really possible that those two idiots did care? Enough to risk harming their own careers... over him? It was unfathomable to him, the idea of acting so selflessly.

He rubbed his eyes angrily and stared at himself in the mirror. What was going to happen now? Without the pills, his body would start to change. He would become gangly and awkward, would lose his grace and perhaps even his ability on the ice all together. And then what? His sponsors would drop out one by one. The money would stop coming in and everything would fall apart. Grandpa's retirement didn't cover the cost of his house as well as enough food. Mom couldn't afford the apartment when she was working, let alone when she was off _Boze_ knew where. What would become of them? Of him?

By the time he composed himself and returned to the kitchen, Victor was putting food on the table. They all sat down together to eat, Victor and Yuuri chatting as if nothing was amiss. Yurio refused to even acknowledge them.

They tried to get him to dry dishes as they washed, but he didn't bother to reply. Perched angrily on the couch, he messaged Otabek to rant about his latest woes. His friend would understand. He would either give him advice or simply commiserate in that stoic way of his. For a moment, Yurio let himself be wrapped up in the fantasy of Otabek flying from Kasakhstan to rescue him. Pulling up on his motorcycle just like he had in Barcelona and the two of them riding off together. Then he shook his head to clear away the ridiculous thoughts.

Yuuri went to bed first, saying he wanted to get up early for a jog. Victor and Yurio sat in silence, neither of them watching the movie that was on television. Soon it began to grate on Yurio. He felt it was stretched so thin that it would shatter if one of them didn't say something. Finally, he gave in.

"He was tall, you know."

"Who?" Victor asked softly.

"My father. His blasted height is going to be the only thing he gives me. The one thing I never wanted from him."

"Mine was too."

"At least yours left you money. Not that mine would have been worth a single cent even if he'd dropped dead instead of walking out."

"That he did, for which I'm grateful," Victor admitted. "Enough to get me through until I was winning and could support myself."

"If you understand that, why can't you let me do what I need to do?"

"Is that why you need to win, Yurio?"

"Don't call me that stupid nickname, you loser. Of course that's why I need to win. I'm not just an airhead play boy like you. People depend on me."

"You're the breadwinner in your family," Victor surmised.

"That's right. And I intend to keep earning enough to support them. I don't care how I make that happen or what risks I have to take."

"We're not talking about those pills any more. You won't be taking them, and that's that. You're going to go through puberty like every teenage boy. Maybe you'll have to work twice as hard to overcome the obstacles that presents you, but you'll get past them. I promise you that."

"You can't promise me that. You have no idea-"

"Don't I?" Victor smirked. "I thought you would know, but perhaps you're a bit too young to remember it well. I went through the same thing."

"That's not true."

"Well I wasn't born 180 centimeters. I wasn't quite as short as you before it, and mine hit far younger than yours, but I went through growth spurts and puberty just the same as you."

"Could have fooled me."

"Why do you think I didn't win the junior championship my last year? Why I didn't stand a chance of winning gold at my senior debut? My body changed rapidly, and I struggled to keep up with the changes. It was terrible not to feel in control of my own limbs, as if I was possessed by this ravenous beast that never rested. Until one day, it did. I stopped growing, my hormones leveled out, and I was able to keep skating."

"You had money of your own to fall back on while you weren't winning. It was fine for you to become a failure for however long it took to compensate. I don't have that option."

"So this has only been about the money?"

"Of course not! I want to _win_. I'm not like you two losers. I have pride in what I do. The fact that that same pride is what provides food for the people in my life is a totally separate issue."

"Well you're just going to have to stuff your pride, Yurio. But money won't be an issue for you any more."

"Oh yeah? Why not? Do you know of any sponsors who are going to pay for a clutzy oaf to fall all over the ice?"

"Of course not." Victor rested his forefinger against his nose as a grin spread across his face. "But from now on, _I'm_ going to be your main sponsor."

"Y-you?"

"Technically me and Yuuri. I suppose I should talk to him about it first, but he'll understand." He shrugged negligently, smile still in place.

"You're just going to... support me? Even if I lose all my talent for skating?"

"You're not going to lose all your talent."

"How do you know?"

"I didn't. And you're just as good as me, right?"

Yurio started to snap a reply, then stopped. Victor was right. He was every bit as good. Better, even. If he could have a sponsor who would stick with him through the time while his body changed, he would claw his way back to the top and be able to support himself. He would become the world's best skater, no matter how fucking big he got. "Damn right," he finally agreed.

"It's settled, then. You'll keep training, and you'll let your body do what it needs to. Tomorrow we can handle all the financial aspects."

"Fine." Yurio shoved to his feet, unwilling to let Victor see another display of emotion from him. He'd almost made it to his room when he found himself talking again, against his better judgment. "You don't have any reason to look after me. Neither of you do."

There was a pause, then Victor's hand was resting on Yurio's shoulder. "That's what family does."

"You're not my f-family." He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He couldn't allow himself to believe it. If the did, then it would be all the more painful when it came crashing down around him.

"Yes, we are, _zvyozdochka_."

Yurio shook his head and went into his room, closing the door behind him. _Little star_. It sounded like an endearment a father might call his son. Maybe Victor meant it now, but he would forget or grow bored, and then things would go back to the way they were. He only hoped that when it did happen, he still had enough time to try and stop his growth.

* * *

"This is where you live?" Victor asked indignantly. Yurio felt the tips of his ears heat and snarled to cover his discomfort.

"Fuck off, you has-been. Not all of us were born with silver spoons in our mouths."

"Both of you stop it," Yuuri repremanded. "There's nothing wrong with living modestly, Yurio. The fact that you've been sacrificing comfort so that your family could be better taken care of is admirable. I'm sure that Victor was just surprised your mother doesn't have more to say about the... state of things." He looked around at the cluttered space, devoid of any personal touches and yet chocked full of _stuff_.

"As if that hag is ever here." Yurio wandered past them into the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

"You mean she doesn't live here with you?"

"Her name's on the lease," Yurio shrugged.

"But she's not actually here? When was the last time she was?"

"A year, maybe? Fuck if I know."

"A year? _Blyad!_ Yurio, I knew she wasn't around a lot, but that long? Are you sure something didn't happen to her?"

"Dead women don't spend money. She still takes out what goes into her account, so she's still alive." He dumped the empty cup in the sink and began picking through a pile of clothes heaped on the sofa. "Probably somewhere drinking her body weight in vodka," he muttered.

"Yurio... how long has it been like this?" Victor's voice was gentle, and he crossed to Yurio to put rest a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you now, my shrink?" Yurio shrugged the hand off and kept digging through the clothes. "It's always been like this. Sometimes when I was younger I'd stay with grandpa, but his place is small with only one bed, and with his bad back-" he turned with a few shirts in his arms and scowled when he saw the look on Victor and Yuuri's faces. "Stop looking at me like that! I don't need your fucking pity."

"Of course you don't, Yurio," Yuuri agreed. "You're a strong, independent, exceptionally talented young man. No one would ever pity you."

"Yeah, well... don't call me Yurio. We're in Russia now, _you're_ the one who should have to go by a stupid nickname."

"You could always use one of the ones I call him," Victor said with a grin. Yurio gagged dramatically. "You'll need more clothes than that. Why don't you pick some others as well?"

"Why? This is plenty. I don't plan to stay at your stupid apartment for any longer than I have to. It's too... cheery." He shuddered.

"Don't worry, our happiness won't infect you. Still, you should bring more. What about this one? I think it would go great with these jeans." Victor grabbed a top and laid it across a pair of jeans. He and Yurio began to bicker, and Yuuri just sat back and watched them with a smile. It amazed him how remarkably similar the two of them could be while still being so utterly different.

* * *

The knock on the door came late, after everyone had gone to bed, though no one had yet fallen asleep. Makkachin barked once, then stopped when the master bedroom door opened and Victor stepped out. Yurio poked his head into the hall in time to see Yuuri cinch a thigh length robe around his waist. His hair was mussed, his neck looked suspiciously damp, and unless Yurio was mistaken, those were scratches he could see above the collar of Victor's t shirt. Couldn't those pervs keep their hands off each other for even a moment?

He was about to call something dispairaging down the hall at them but then the front door opened and he saw Yakov standing there, his hat in hand. A little shaken, he closed the door but stayed pressed against it so he could hear.

Victor looked out at Yakov and then stepped aside to let him in without a word. The coach settled into a chair and twisted the abused hat further.

"I made a mistake, Victor. We both know that."

"Yakov-"

"No, let me finish," he demanded, still not looking up at his former student. "I'm not going to make excuses. The reasons don't really matter. What matters is that I made a serious error in judgment, and you stepped in to fix it. I'm grateful to you for that. Despite what I'm sure you think now, I do care about Yuri. I don't intend to let something like this happen ever again."

"I know," Victor said softly. Finally, Yakov's head rose, and their eyes met.

"I'm not looking for absolution from you. I'm not asking for your forgiveness or for you to understand. You just need to know that I'm grateful for your intervention and that you won't need to do it again."

"I know," Victor repeated. "And I owe you an apology as well."

"Whatever for?"

"I should never have laid hands on you like that, no matter what I thought. It was inexcusable and it won't happen again, either."

"I'm not so frail that I can't take a little shove from the likes of you," Yakov muttered.

"My temper got the better of me, and I didn't stop to think, didn't take all the factors into consideration."

"You did the right thing, protecting him. He deserves that."

"Indeed, he does. It's not a position I intend to give up."

"He'll need that. Especially in the coming years."

"He'll have it for far longer than that," Victor assured him. "Yuuri and I aren't going anywhere, and we intend to stand by him."

"That's what family does," Yuuri added, moving from the doorway of the bedroom to stand behind Victor and lay his hand on his shoulder. Victor picked up Yuuri's hand and kissed it softly. Then with a little tug, he pulled Yuuri down so that he could tip his face up and kiss his fiance's lips. Yakov cleared his throat loudly and stood up.

"I'll leave you two to your night, then," he said hastily as he backed to the door. Victor and Yuuri smiled politely at him, not bothering to move out of each other's arms. "Really, you two, just get married already so you can hate each other like every other couple."

Victor and Yuuri just laughed.

* * *

Yurio was sweating, his muscles screaming in protest, but he continued on. The piggy still had more stamina than him, and he would keep working on his endurance until that changed. The faces of people scattered around the rink flew by him in a blur as he did a quad, then the world righted itself. He landed gracefully, of course. He always did. One glide, two, then three as he picked up speed to prepare for another jump. A lone, still figure caught the corner of his eye and he nearly face planted into the railing when he realized who it was.

 _Otabek_.

Yurio caught himself before he fell and skated quickly over to where his friend was standing. "Bekka! What are you..."

Victor and Yuuri stood several feet away, watching as if seeing two animals meet for the first time in a zoo. Yurio scowled. They were the cause of this. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to be mad. Not when this was the result. "They called and told you what was happening, didn't they?"

Otabek nodded, his expression placid and inscrutable. But Yurio could see the faint lines between his eyes. Otabek was frustrated. "Don't you dare take their side," Yurio demanded. Otabek lifted one shoulder.

"There's a new plan now, so what difference does it make?" he asked sagely.

"The difference is that _I'm_ your friend, not the piggy and the has-been. You're supposed to support me, not them." Yurio skated to the rink entrance and then went to a bench to take his skates off. Otabek followed and sat beside him.

"I do support you," Otabek said after a long silence.

"Good. How long do you get to stay? I hope you had Victor pay for your ticket. He's loaded and its his fault you're here."

"He did pay, but I would have come anyway after we talked. I'm here for the summer."

"The _whole_ summer?" Yurio couldn't help the excited grin that spread across his face. Otabek nodded. There was giggling from somewhere behind them and Yurio scowled. "You two stop clucking like old hens and either do some skating or get the hell out of here. You're distracting the _real_ athletes!"

"We're going, we're going," Victor assured him, crossing to the ice with Yuuri just behind him. "You two should take the afternoon off and catch up a little. You could show Otabek the sights, Yurio." He glided backwards, pulling Yuuri into his arms lightly.

"We'll go when we're good and ready! You're not the boss," Yurio snapped back. Victor just chuckled and spun Yuuri out. There was no music playing, but they moved with incredible grace, dipping low, jumping in perfect synchrony, lifts flawlessly exicuted. For a moment, their skates got too close and they tumbled into each other. Yuuri caught himself on Victor's chest, then clutched at Victor's shoulders to keep him upright as well. They straightened and kissed, then broke apart laughing. "Disgusting," Yurio sniped.

"Yeah, it really is great," Otabek said softly. Yurio whipped his head around to stare at his friend and found Otabek's eyes on the couple now circling each other on the ice. The look in his eyes was soft, almost wistful. Then, he shifted his gaze to Yurio. For one moment, his eyes stayed full of that soft longing. Yurio felt the tips of his ears get hot.

"T-that's not what I said."

"Yes, it is." Their gazes held for several heartbeats until Yurio finally looked away.

"Let's get out of here before the idiots have any worse influence on you."

"So," Yurio asked, trying to sound casual after dinner, "where are you staying?"

Otabek looked between him and Victor and Yuuri, confused. "Here, I think."

" _Da_ , we set him up in with you," Victor called over his shoulder from the sink.

"In my room?" Yurio sounded so shocked that Yuuri turned.

"Is that a problem?" he asked. Yurio felt his face start to get red and he tried desperately to fight it.

"Of course it is. There's only one bed!"

"No there's not. That bed's a trundle. Another one pulls out from under it." Victor grinned and dunked another plate in the sudsy water. "I was optomistic about the number of guests I might receive when I bought it."

"Not that anyone would want to come and stay with you willingly," Yurio grumbled. Otabek touched his shoulder softly, making him turn.

"Would you rather I didn't?"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean, of course you should stay with me. It's not like there's anywhere else to go in this house to escape their lovey-dovey crap. Besides, it would be stupid to pay for a hotel or something for that long."

"You're sure?" That intense gaze bored into him, and Yurio felt as if all his secret longings, all his hidden fantasies, were being laid bare. He squirmed uncomfortably.

"I said it's fine, alright? Just shut up about it." He pushed away from the table and stomped to his room. Inside, a small suitcase sat at the bottom of the bed. There was a pillow and a duffle bag atop it. Bekka's luggage. Yurio glanced at the door to make sure it had fully closed behind him. Then he crossed to the bags and lifted the pillow. After another glance over his shoulder, he brought the pillow to his face and inhaled deeply. A low growl left his throat and then he buried his face against the pillow case, rubbing it like a cat.

A knock at the door made him jump – also a rather feline move – and shove the pillow back down. "What?" he snarled. Bekka opened the door a crack.

"Mind if I come in, Yurio?"

"It's fine. But don't call me that stupid nickname!" He sat on the bed cross legged and pulled his own pillow into his lap petulantly. There was a pause, then Otabek joined him. He leaned back against the wall, one knee drawn up to his chest and the other leg extended out to brush against Yurio.

"What would you rather?"

"My name is Yuri," he stated flatly. Otabek tilted his head and said nothing. "If anyone has a nickname, it should be the piggy, since _he's_ the visitor here." Still, Otabek said nothing. "Fine! I don't care, as long as it's not something stupid like _Yurio_."

"What does your family call you?"

"You already know," he punched the pillow in frustration. "They call me Yurio-" he broke off in horror, realizing that he'd just openly claimed Victor and Yuuri as his family. "M-my grandpa calls me Yurachka."

"Yurachka?"

"Yeah, but it sounds old when you say it."

"Yura?"

"That's better," Yurio agreed hesitantly. "Aren't there any Kazakh names that would work?"

Otabek thought for a moment. " _Altynym_ , maybe."

"Altynym. That doesn't sound terrible. What does it mean?"

It meant _golden boy_ , but of course Otabek had no intention of telling Yurio that. He gave a little half smile. "It's like an endearment."

"Oh." Yurio blushed yet again and focused his eyes very firmly on the pillow in his lap. "Maybe when it's only us, then. And Yura around everyone else."

"Alright, _altynym_ ," Otabek said with that same soft smile. Yurio kicked him and glared with all the mock ferocity he could muster. Bekka just laughed.

"Where are we going, again?" Otabek asked, tugging at Yurio's elbow.

"My apartment. It's just up ahead."

"Oh, did you need more clothes? I could have brought a bag-" he stopped as Yurio began climbing the stairs, ignoring him.

"Won't need a bag. Just gotta grab the pills." Yurio had unlocked the door and stepped inside by the time Otabek got over his shock and caught up to him. He jerked Yurio back.

"What pills?" he demanded.

"Those hormone pills. I'm not going to take them as long as the wash-up keeps his word, but I want a back up plan for if he-"

"No." Otabek shook Yurio's shoulders sharply. "No back up plan."

Yurio tried to brush Otabek off, but the bigger man wouldn't let go. "It's fine, I'm just going to keep them on hand."

"No, you're not! No pills, not now, not ever. Not if you're pissed off at Victor, or if he were to drop dead tomorrow. No pills."

"What the hell, Bekka? You should understand. If this falls through, I need a solution. You don't know Victor like I do, he's flighty and forgetful-"

"I don't care! That doesn't change the fact that you're not taking any pills. You're not risking your life."

Yurio's temper flared and he pushed Otabek, hard. "I don't need a _daddy_ , Bekka. You can't tell me what to do." Otabek's eyes flashed, and in a heartbeat he had closed the distance between them again and fisted his hand tightly in Yurio's hair. Yurio's chin tipped back from the force of it, defiant green eyes meeting determined brown. There was a pause, a brief moment when neither of them dared to even breathe. It felt too hot, too slow, too intense. Yurio's lips parted, and Otabek's eyes followed the minute movement.

Then, his hand dropped away and he put a small distance between them. "No, I can't," he agreed flatly. "But no pills."

Yurio huffed, half tempted to try and grab them anyway. Instead he turned and stomped to the door. On the threshold, he paused a second to wait for Otabek, and his fingers lifted to his lips as if he'd been kissed. What a stupid thought. As if Bekka would ever kiss him. They were both male, after all. And not everyone in the world was perverted like Victor and Yuuri. Stupid, ridiculous thought. He shook his head and they began walking home together, a scant inch between them. Yurio kept his arms crossed, sulking. After a few blocks, Otabek threw an arm casually around Yurio. They didn't say anything about it at all.

* * *

Yurio grew ten centimeters that summer. Suddenly he was taller than Otabek, and not far behind Victor. His limbs grew in proportion, but also began to develop considerable muscle mass despite his attempts to keep his figure sleek and trim. His voice cracked, broke, then dropped nearly an octive. He hated it, hated the suddenly foreign body he inhabited, hated how difficult everything had suddenly become.

Victor, though, kept his promise to support Yurio and help him through the changes. Though he'd never gotten as bulky as Yurio was becoming, he understood how frustrated Yurio was with losing his grace, having to cope with longer legs and gangly arms, even – _the horror_ – acne. Victor taught him how to compensate for his extra height by leaning further back in his spins, to tuck his knees just the right way, to keep his elbows in tight during jumps.

Otabek, too, had much to teach Yurio. He'd realized when the two of them had first met that he would never be a graceful ballerina. Instead, he'd chosen strength of will and determination as his training weapons. With his encouragement, Yurio never gave up, never whined about how hard it was, never gave into the temptation of taking dangerous pills as an easier out. They grew closer, both as rink mates and friends.

More than once, Victor had casually poked his head into the room they shared to check on them. He didn't think Otabek would try anything, but he also knew what the look Yurio had been trying so much to hide from all of them meant. Sixteen felt so young to him. Really, it was far too young to get involved with anyone romantically, let alone sexually. And so his random checks continued, though he never did catch anything scandalous going on.

At the end of the summer, Otabek returned to Kazakhstan to resume his training under his coach as well as prepare for competitions. Yurio didn't make it into the Grand Prix Finals that year, but Otabek did, and he was there every moment cheering his friend on. Of course, he didn't cheer for Yuuri and Victor, especially when they took first and second, respectively. Otabek deserved it far more than those two slack-offs, Yurio was certain. Bekka didn't seem to mind taking the bronze, however, and flashed him a thumbs up from the platform. Yurio blushed and scowled at the blush.

The next summer, Yurio grew another full ten centimeters. He was now taller than Victor and weighed a full two stone more. There were times when he wanted to give up. Times when he felt that he would never feel comfortable in his own skin again, when it all felt so damn pointless. And when those times got particularly bad, Victor would make a call and Yurio would find a familiar suitcase and pillow sitting at the foot of his bed.

Just the sight of it would bring a sigh of relief from his lips. If Bekka was there, he could breathe. He could face it. He could face _anything_. They would train together until one or both of them dropped from exhaustion, and then they would sprawl out on the couch together, Otabek sitting sideways and Yurio stretched across his lap like an oversized cat, leaving Victor and Yuuri to cuddle happily in the arm chair.

That year, Yurio again didn't qualify for the Grand Prix. He was almost madder that Chris took third place behind Victor and Yuuri than that he hadn't been able to compete. Otabek had been his usual serene self about the whole thing. Even the next year, when Yurio took third place and Otabek hadn't made it onto the platform (and Victor had been forced to swear up and down that he _absolutely hadn't_ let Yuuri beat him), Otabek hadn't seemed to mind.

* * *

Victor's retirement the following year had changed many things. Not just the competition, though that did allow for Otabek to take bronze behind Yuuri and Yurio, but in the off season as well. Though neither of them had officially moved their home rinks, Otabek and Yurio were rarely apart. Mostly, they stayed in Victor and Yuuri's apartment, which Yurio had never manged to move out of. Things would likely have continued on that way for far longer, if Yurio hadn't fallen asleep watching a movie on the couch.

He'd been sprawled across Otabek like usual, snoring like a dog also like usual. It had been a long day, and Yuuri had just dropped to sleep on Victor's chest when there was an explosion on the tv that jolted everyone. Yurio yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes.

"What time is it, daddy?" he asked blearily.

Victor froze. Yuuri's eyes went wide.

Otabek checked his watch with a yawn. "Midnight."

"Okay," Yurio mumbled, his head dropping back onto Otabek's shoulder. Victor and Yuuri's jaws dropped in unison. There was a heavy, shocked pause, then Yurio's head jerked back up, bright red. He rose from the couch in one fluid move, tripped over the back of it in his haste to get to the bedroom, and slammed the door behind him. Otabek shrugged, passed Victor and Yuri a 'what can you do' smile, then started to the door. It opened, and Yurio's head popped out. "We're moving out!" he snapped, then jerked Otabek in by the collar of his shirt and slammed the door closed again.

 _ **For anyone wondering, in this universe, these were the GPF standings in the years after the main story:**_

(Main story GP, 1st, 2nd, 3rd) Yurio, Yuuri, Chris

(1 year later) Yuuri, Victor, Otabek

(2 years later) Victor, Yuuri, Chris (Chris retired after this year)

(3 years later) Yuuri, Victor, Yurio (Victor retired after this year)

(4 years later) Yuuri, Yurio, Otabek (Yuuri retired after this year)

(5 years later) Yurio, Otabek, Phichit


	14. Third Time's a Charm

Third Time's a Charm

There were times when Victor felt like he had his whole life ahead of him. When he was young and carefree, and basking in the joy of being married to the love of his life. And then there were times when he felt like an ancient _crone._ On the ice that year, he felt like the crone. It wasn't that he was the oldest competitor (though he was). It wasn't that there had been speculation about him retiring every year since he'd returned. No, it had been his knee that had made him feel so old.

The injury hadn't affected his skating, not to any real extent, for the previous decade. But he'd always known it was on borrowed time. Sure, he could push himself, maybe get another year or two of mediocre – for him – skating before blowing it out entirely. That wasn't what he wanted, though.

He didn't want his last season to be one where he barely scraped by. He didn't want to never be able to skate again at all. He didn't want to walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Besides, at thirty, he'd had an extraordinarily long skating career. The previous year he'd won gold at the Grand Prix final and worlds, and he had no doubt that either he or Yuuri would take it again in the coming year. This was his third season back since taking a year off to coach Yuuri, and he'd decided that it was enough. He'd proven everything he'd set out to prove, reached greater heights than he'd ever thought possible, and felt a level of personal fulfillment he'd never before experienced. So, this would he his last year skating competitively.

He just had to try and find a way to tell Yuuri.

Not that he thought his husband would be disappointed. Yuuri had been worried about Victor's knee for the last two years, and had long since stopped feeling like they owed anything of themselves to the rest of the world. Still, Victor knew it would be hard to accept that they wouldn't be skating together competitively any longer. They drove each other on, spurred each other down new and exciting paths. Would Yuuri lose his inspiration to skate?

Watching him finish his last day of practice before the Japan Nationals, it was hard to believe that he could ever lose his inspiration. It was hard to believe that four years before, the man skating so confidently across the ice had been a bundle of anxiety and self doubt. He jumped, landed a beautiful quad flip, and turned to see if Victor was watching. He always did that, no matter where they were or what they were doing. And Victor was always watching.

The smile on his face was exhilarating, even though he'd mastered that particular jump (now _both_ their signature moves) long ago. There were some things that never lost their thrill. Yuuri skating joyously across the rink towards Victor's arms was another thing that never lost its thrill.

"I think that was your highest one yet!" Victor praised as he hugged Yuuri tight.

"You really think so?"

"In fact, I'd suggest you tone it down a bit for competition tomorrow. There's no need to push yourself, and you don't want to put any more crazy ideas in Minime's head."

Yuuri laughed. "You're probably right. He's gotten so good at his quads, though, have you noticed?"

"Of course. If he gets any better, I'll start to worry about him stealing you away from me." Victor winked.

"Oh, yes. Definitely something you need to worry about. In fact, why don't I call him up and have _him_ take me to dinner tonight, instead?"

Victor growled and pulled Yuuri close. His teeth grazed Yuuri's neck, then nipped at the sensitive spot where his shoulder began. "He'll have to get through me first," he purred in Yuuri's ear. Yuuri let out a low hum and melted against him.

"Mm, I've changed my mind. You can take me to dinner."

"Damn right I can." Victor grinned. "Did you ever decide if you'd rather go to that- Yuuri?"

Victor looked over to what had caught his husband's attention. At one of the benches a few feet away, a group of primary school children were putting on skates. There was a woman – presumably the teacher – helping another small group get their skates on, but the ones by them were having trouble with the laces. A little girl had declared hers finished and tried to stand, but the laces were far too loose and her ankle tipped sideways. Victor darted over to catch her before she fell while Yuuri put on his blade covers and joined them.

"Want some help?" he offered with a genial smile. The children, two girls and three boys, looked slightly nervous. "It's ok, we can just crouch down here and tighten the laces, alright?" After a hesitant nod from the kids, both men set about doing up the tiny skates. In no time at all, they were finished, and five eager smiles thanked them. Victor winked and began helping them to their feet. When he reached the last little boy, a tiny hand tugged on his sleeve.

"A-are you Victor 'Kifirov?"

"I am. Are you a fan?" Victor bestowed a dazzling smile on the little boy, whose cheeks turned red with excitement. The teacher had just walked over in time to notice the display.

"I'm so sorry, I hope they aren't disturbing you both-"

"Miss Ren, Miss Ren! That's Victor 'Kifirov! And that means... that means-" the chubby finger turned to Yuuri and wavered, practically trembling with elation. "Are you Yuuri Katsuki?" he asked in an awed whisper. Victor nudged Yuuri as he nodded.

"And here I thought he was my fan. I think it's safe to say he's _yours_."

"Oh...my... lord, it really is you two!" The teacher brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle a gasp. "I- I mean, we knew you were in town for the competition, its what prompted us to take the kids to a rink for a field trip, but I never thought we would see you at a small, local rink like this one!"

"We like to stay out of the limelight if we can before competitions," Victor explained.

"Mister Katsuki, w-would you teach me how to skate like you?" The little boy hadn't taken his wide eyes off Yuuri.

"Klyo, I'm sure Mr Katsuki and Mr Nikiforov have many important things to do since their competition is tomorrow-"

"No, it's no problem. We can spare an hour, can't we, Victor?" Yuuri checked his watch and then looked to Victor for confirmation. Victor nodded, and the children began to cheer.

Half an hour later, Victor was watching his husband lead the small group of children through beginner skating moves. One little girl stumbled, and Yuuri was right there to catch her and set her back on her feet. The little boy who'd first recognized him was clinging to Yuuri's hand like a life preserver, and Yuuri seemed totally bemused about it.

It was amazing to Victor, who'd been born with his skating talent, how much Yuuri could teach the children. He was reminded yet again that Yuuri had fought for every skill he had. Perhaps it was because of that herculean effort that he was able to impart his knowledge so easily. Where Victor had trouble explaining things, or didn't know the right thing to say or do, Yuuri seemed like a natural. Victor wondered if, as Yuuri picked up the little boy and propped him in his hip, it was only confined to skating or if Yuuri would be so natural with all children.

He was great with the Nagasaki triplets, of course, but Victor had always assumed that was because they were practically family.

They finished the lesson together by showing the class a piece of their pair skate for the exhibition that season. When they ended on a lift, the kids all clapped and cheered. Then Victor and Yuuri were off to the locker room to change back into their street clothes and get dinner.

"You seem quiet," Yuuri observed as they walked to the restaurant. Victor studied Yuuri for a moment, then asked the question that had been weighing on his mind.

"Do you want children, Yuuri?"

Yuuri stopped on the sidewalk and Victor was forced to stop with him. "W-what- I mean, where is this coming from?"

Victor chuckled. "Seeing you so happy around a passel of tiny humans might have brought the subject to mind."

"Of course," Yuuri shook his head and his cheeks flushed a light pink. "Well, I haven't thought about it in a long time, you know? I just assumed, when I was younger, that I would have at least a few, but then skating became my whole life, and then with you..."

"You changed your mind because you married me?" Victor's brows drew together in concern.

"No! No that's not it at all! I just mean, it's not like we can er- _make_ one."

"I'm aware of that much," Victor replied with a sarcastic raise of one eyebrow. Yuuri blushed brighter.

"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean. I guess I just never gave any thought to... alternative forms. Or if you would even want kids." There was a pause, and they resumed walking. "Do you?" Yuuri asked finally.

"Want kids?" Victor asked innocently.

" _Victor_ -"

"All right, alright," Victor laughed. "And... yes, I think I do."

"Oh." Yuuri glanced at him sidelong. "Good then."

"So you still do, too?"

"I... yeah. Yeah, I think I do."

They made it all the way through dinner and were back at the hotel before the subject came up again. Yuuri, who'd been thinking about it continuously, growing more and more attached to the idea, did a quick google search on his phone of _parenting options for gay men_ and crossed his fingers that no one would ever learn the extent of his naivete on the subject.

"When would you want to? Have kids, I mean," he asked after Victor stepped out of his shower. Victor paused, and Yuuri went on to fill the silence. "I looked, and it seems like there are a lot of different options, and some of them take a long time to-"

"Yuuri..." Victor went over to the bed and crouched between Yuuri's knees. He took his husband's hands in his own. "I know I'm the one who brought it up, and I meant it when I said that I do want children. But it is very important to me that we wait until at least one of us is retired before bringing any children into our lives." He brushed Yuuri's hair out of his eyes with infinite tenderness and swallowed thickly. "I couldn't bear the thought of them going through what I did, or what Yurio did. I hope you understand."

"Of course I do," Yuuri whispered, pulling Victor up onto the bed with him. He hugged Victor close and rocked side to side for a few moments, thinking of how difficult of a childhood the two of them had had.

"I would want our little one to grow up the way you did, Yuuri. Surrounded by unconditional love and support."

"I understand, Victor. And I love you even more for it."

"You really don't mind waiting?"

Yuuri shook his head. "I waited twenty years to be with you, didn't I?"

"You were only twenty-three when we met, Yuuri."

"And you started skating at seven." He blushed. Would he ever get used to the fact that he'd married his lifelong idol? "But that's not the point. The point is, I think you're absolutely right about waiting, and I don't mind at all. When we take that step, we should both be ready, and be able to make a child our main priority." They kissed, then laid down on the bed facing each other.

"So... when we _are_ ready, what way do you want to go?"

"Well, there are a lot of different options," Yuuri repeated his words from earlier.

Victor grinned. "And what did the internet say?" Yuuri blushed again at being found out. Trust Victor to know what he'd been doing without even having to look at his internet history.

"We could find a pregnant mother looking to put her baby up for adoption and adopt a baby, or look in an orphanage for an older child, or use a donor and try with one or both our genes-"

"We could end up like that American couple and get twins, one that's yours and one that's mine!"

"Yes," Yuuri laughed, "there's always that."

They talked late into the night (far later than Coach Victor could condone the night before a competition, but husband Victor was too excited to care). In the end, they decided to explore all their options and wait for what felt right, when the time was right.

That season flew by, with Victor taking silver behind Yuuri, and Yurio taking bronze. There was a part of him, a small, nearly forgotten part, that wished he could have gotten gold his last year skating, but breaking the world record Yuuri had set four years before and coming in only a single point behind the man he loved most in the world was a pretty spectacular way to end a career, too.

When he'd told Yuuri his decision to retire, they had both cried. Tears of grief for something so beautiful ending, but also tears of joy for something else beginning. When Yurio and Otabek moved out that summer (after a rather telling moment while they'd all been watching a movie...) Victor and Yuuri decided it was time to start seriously considering their options.

Victor was fairly certain that he wanted to use a surrogate and have a baby that was genetically theirs. They'd agreed if they went that route they would both contribute, and Victor wasn't sure if he would rather pass on his own genes and have a silver haired, blue eyed baby, or have it be Yuuri's dark haired, brown eyed little one they got to bring home. Both ideas made his heart pound and his chest swell with pride.

Still, they'd decided they would look at adoption as well, so in between Yuuri's training schedule, they visited adoption agencies and orphanages across several continents.

They had only taken two steps into the first orphanage in St Petersburg before Victor was totally and utterly lost. It wasn't that his dream of silver or black haired babies, of biological children, vanished, but rather that the fact that there were children existing already in the world that needed homes became undeniably real to him. He'd been stopped short as a little boy who couldn't have been more than three barreled into his legs. When he reached out to steady the child, the little boy had cringed back as if expecting a blow.

It had been a monumental effort not to snatch the boy up in his arms and try to hug away all his woes. Instead, he'd whispered his husband's name brokenly and Yuuri had wrapped his arm around Victor's shoulders tightly. _I know,_ Yuuri had whispered back. Victor wasn't sure he'd ever loved his husband more than in that moment.

When they laid in bed that night, Victor had cried. Yuuri held him as his shoulders shook with the force of it. He had always known, rationally, that there were children like him, whose parents had died. And he'd known, even from an early age, that he'd been lucky to have an inheritance that had kept him out of an orphanage. Still, he'd allowed himself to get far too caught up in his own woes and had taken his life for granted. Had taken his happiness for granted. It wasn't a mistake he ever intended to make again.

They did research before visiting each orphanage and when they visited, brought supplies and treats, as well as hefty donations that would better conditions for the children. Yuuri, who'd assumed he would be the one interacting more with the kids, was shocked and enamored watching Victor become a surrogate father to dozens of children across the world. He talked to them, played with them, got down on their level and saw the world through their eyes. Half the time he became a human jungle gym for them. Visiting the orphans became one of his greatest joys.

After Yuuri took gold at the Grand Prix that year, they had gone back to that first orphanage in St Petersburg. The little blonde boy they'd seen on the first day had been slow to open up to them, and even slower to trust them, but eventually he'd been unable to resist the selfless love Victor and Yuuri offered him. A few months later, they finalized the adoption papers. Nikolai Katsuki-Nikiforov quickly blossomed from a terrified, underfed child into an overindulged, well loved son to two doting fathers.

Even though Yuuri retired that year, the three of them still traveled to the competitions to cheer on Niki's Uncle Yura, Uncle Beka, and Uncle Chit. Of course, he didn't understand what Uncle Yura and Uncle Chit were talking about when they fought over who got to be his godfather, but the increasingly extravagant birthday, Christmas, New Year's, and even Labor day presents were nice. Uncle Beka had made him promise not to tell them that the present Beka had gotten him (a photo album full of pictures Otabek had been taking unnoticed for years of the entire skating family) was his favorite.

The year Yuuri retired, Victor gave up his apartment in St Petersburg and they made Hasetsu their permanent home. Yuuri's mother was thrilled to have them around for more than just part of the year, especially now that she had a grandchild to spoil. Mari, too, was glad to have them back and showed it in her own unique way. If they had ever doubted it, the fact that she'd quite smoking so that it wouldn't be around Niki was proof enough for them.

Occasionally they still traveled, to various competitions and to perform in ice shows, and Niki happily went with them. While they were skating, there was a line of eager pseudo family members to watch him. He would sit in the stand and watch his daddies glide across the ice. It reminded him of the way they danced in the kitchen at home, of the way they moved around each other without even realizing it sometimes, circling continuously closer until they could touch.

Someday, when he got older, someone would ask him if it was _weird_ to have two daddies instead of a daddy and a mommy. And Niki would think back to the hazy memories of life before Victor and Yuuri, to the cold and the hunger and the fear. Then, he would think about life after he'd been adopted. Life with happiness and fun and unconditional love. And then, he would shake his head, smile, and say that it wasn't weird at all. It was the best thing ever.

 _ **So, I was looking at the last chapter and realized FFN took out my page breaks and scene markers? I put them back in for the last chapter, and there aren't any in this one, but I'll be going back through the rest of the story to see if it has happened in earlier chapters as well. I apologize for how abrupt the scene changes seemed before! Hopefully it wasn't like that the whole story...**_


	15. First Fight

_**A lovely (and hysterical) tumblr prompt ; )**_

First Fight

It didn't come until nearly a year after they'd become romantically involved. Oh, they'd had spats, little disagreements, unimportant arguments, but no real fights until that one, and boy was it a doozy. The thing was, neither of them could actually remember what the fight was _about_. They knew what they were currently mad at each other for, but not what exactly had started the fight. No, now it had devolved into

 _I can't believe you said that-_

 _Well I wouldn't have, if you hadn't-_

 _If you hadn't been so-_

 _It's your fault that I-_

 _Why don't you just-_

And round and round they went. All. Morning. Long. They'd woken Yurio up bickering over making the coffee, then over what to have for breakfast. They'd annoyed Yakov squabbling over which program to practice first. They'd even pissed off Mila by nitpicking each other's outfit choices (as it turned out, Mila had gotten Victor that shirt and Yuuri those gloves for Christmas, thank you _very_ much).

Yuuri was on the ice, practicing his spins, while Victor leaned against the railing and glared at him. Yurio was standing beside his – roommate? Father-figure? Semi-coach? _Blyad_ , it didn't really matter, Yurio was going to kill him anyway if he didn't knock this shit off – waiting. Yuuri picked up speed and sank back into a sit-spin.

"Put your ass into it, Katsuki!" Victor yelled. Yuuri didn't break the spin, but he raised one arm. It was twirling so fast that it took both Yurio and Victor several moments to realize that he had his middle finger extended defiantly. He was flipping Victor off. Victor huffed, and was about to make a comment about respecting his coach, when Yuuri gracefully rose from the spin and glided by them, his finger still held aloft.

"Suck my dick, Victor Nikiforov!" he called as he went by, glaring at Victor. Victor sucked in a quick breath and his face screwed up in shock and – unless Yurio was mistaken – amusement.

" _Maybe_ _later_ ," he snapped back. Yuuri nearly tripped over his skates, which made Victor smirk. As if he'd heard his husband snickering, Yuuri turned and cast him a sidelong glance. Then, he raised his arms and dropped them down, crossed at his waist.

"Wait, is that-" Yurio was cut off as Yuuri started skating and his suspicion was confirmed. It was the _Eros_ program. There was no music playing, but there didn't need to be. Victor could hear it as if the notes were resonating from within Yuuri himself. Each move, each jump, got his heart pumping faster and faster until by the end he was nearly vibrating with excitement. Yuuri crossed the ice and stepped off the rink, never taking his eyes off Victor.

Yurio watched, confused, as the two men who'd been fighting like cats and dogs only a few minutes before, stared at each other as if they wanted nothing more than to tear each other's clothes off. Yuuri reached up and snatched the collar of Victor's shirt in his fist.

"Somewhere private. _Now_."

Victor nodded eagerly and the two of them made their way quickly to the supply closet in the back of the building. The door had barely closed when Yuuri pushed Victor hard against the wall, kissed him, then ordered huskily, "do it now, Vitya." Victor didn't need to ask what he meant. He dropped eagerly to his knees.

Ten minutes later, they emerged looking slightly disheveled and infinitely happier. "Well," Victor drawled, "if that's what it takes to make you go into _Eros mode_ , I'll have to pick stupid fights with you more often." Yuuri just laughed.

"Come skate with me, you big jerk."

"With pleasure, _moya lyubov_."


	16. Never Say Never

Never Say Never

Yuuri had woken up at five in the morning. Yuuri did _not_ like to wake up at that ungodly hour. He rolled over, slung his arm over Victor, and tried to go back to sleep. He pressed his body against the warmth of his husband's, closed his eyes, and focused on how sweetly sleep was beckoning him. Sleep was a beautiful temptress, calling him with a siren song. He sighed softly and let himself float towards it, closer, closer... Sleep evaded him. Sleep, he decided, was a bitch.

Despite the fact that he took his time and moved as carefully as possible, Victor woke when Yuuri tried to slip out of bed.

"Yuuri, what's wrong?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep. Yuuri sank back down onto the mattress and stroked Victor's hair out of his eyes.

"I can't sleep. Go back to bed; you've still got a few hours before you have to be up."

Victor's mouth opened in a jaw-cracking yawn. "If you're up, I'll be up too."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know. I want to." He reached out and caressed Yuuri's cheek.

Yuuri smiled indulgently at Victor and then nodded. "Alright. I'll be glad for the company."

Five minutes later they were dressed in boxers and faded t-shirts, waiting for the coffee to brew. As Victor poured the first cup, Yuuri hopped up on a bar stool and pressed his cold toes against Victor's calves. Victor yelped and nearly spilled the coffee.

" _Blyad_ , your feet are freezing!"

"We really should turn the heat up in. Without carpet, the floors in here are way too cold in winter."

"Yes, but if we turn up the heat, it'll be too warm to comfortably cuddle. Socks are the sacrifice we make for all-night cuddles."

Yuuri considered that for a moment, then smiled. "Alright, that's a fair trade. I'll go and get socks."

"Someday your thin Japanese skin will acclimate to the rugged Russian winters," Victor said robustly.

"Of course, _muzhestvennyy_ , my manly husband," Yuuri laughed as he went back to the bedroom. Victor waited a beat, debating. Oh well, he'd never been one to put his pride first.

"Yuuri," he called in a loud whisper, aware that Yurio was still asleep in his room. Yuuri poked his head out of their door. "Bring me a pair too!" Yuuri snorted, but grabbed a pair of fluffy socks for Victor after he pulled on a pair of his own. He made his way back to his husband – and the coffee, dear lord the _coffee_ – a little too fast and slid across the floor in his socks. "New move you're thinking of adding to a program?" Victor teased.

"Oh, if I was going to add a move, it would be _this_ one." Yuuri spun around and then dropped into a split, looking up at Victor with wide, deceptively innocent eyes. Victor grinned.

"Really? I would have thought you'd want something like this, instead." Victor slid forward on his socks, turned around, and did a handspring. Yuuri's eyes tracked the movement of his husband's lithe body, the way his muscles bunched and flexed, the skin that was exposed as his shirt rode up.

"You've got it all wrong," he purred, determined to best Victor. "This would be far better-"

Twenty minutes later Yurio emerged from his room with his hair sticking straight up and murder in his eyes. When he reached the kitchen, it was to find music playing softly while Victor and Yuuri skated across the kitchen floor in their socks. Victor grabbed Yuuri into a helicopter lift and they giggled like children. It wasn't until they rotated around that they realized they were no longer alone.

"You idiots paid a ridiculous amount of money to have your bedroom soundproofed. The least you could do is keep your perverted sex lives in there!"

Victor set Yuuri down. Yuuri had the grace to blush. Victor just grinned. "We were coming up with new moves for our programs. Want to join us?"

"As if. I would never participate in something so utterly stupid. You two disgust me." He grabbed Yuuri's coffee cup from his hand and took a fortifying drink.

"Suit yourself," Victor singsonged. Then, he snatched Yuuri to him and they glided across the kitchen floor again. With a glance back at Yurio to make sure he was watching, Victor began a spin with his arm raised – Yurio's specialty – but didn't extend it all the way. Yurio got up and stalked off with a huff. Just when Victor thought his plan had failed, Yurio came back wearing socks.

"Move, old man, you're doing it wrong. It goes like _this_." Then he did the spin properly, with his hand all the way raised. Victor and Yuuri grinned over his head, laughed, and joined him.


	17. Sugar Daddy

_**Warning: gratuitous smut ahead! Dirty talk, daddy kink, and all that jazz. Feel free to skip this chapter if it's not your thing, you won't be missing out on any major plot (except the reason Victor and Yuuri are even more embarrassed to hear Yurio call Otabek 'daddy' a year later...)**_

Sugar Daddy

"So," Yuuri said as they lay facing each other in bed one night. "I know you like it when I call you Vitya when I'm... well, you know-"

"Mm, _Eros mode_ , yes," Victor purred.

"Yes, that," he blushed a little, and Victor noticed, even though the room was semi-dark. "But, I was wondering..."

"Wondering what, Yuuri? You know you can ask me anything. We can talk about anything."

"Wondering if there were any other things you liked to be called. During sex."

"Oh!" Victor's eyes went wide and he grinned. " _Oh_."

"Or that you would want to call me," Yuuri added quickly.

"Well there are plenty of Russian endearments I call you. And hearing you say some of them in my native tongue would certainly be erotic."

"L-like the sweet ones? Or the, uh- dirty ones?"

"My my, someone is feisty tonight." Victor snuggled closer to Yuuri and rocked his hips. "Was there anything specific you were thinking of?"

"Well, no, not anything specific," Yuuri denied. "I just wanted to know if there were any. That you liked, I mean. Dirty ones." His cheeks heated further.

"You mean like when I called you _shlyukha_? Or _suka_?" Victor growled softly into Yuuri's ear. If Yuuri's gasp was any indication, he'd hit the nail right on the head. Victor rolled onto Yuuri and slid his hands up from his chest, lingered on his neck, and then fisted them in his long black hair. "You're hard already, Yuuri." Victor used his grip to tip Yuuri's head back and he nipped and sucked down his throat. "Do you want to be daddy's good little _shlyukha_ tonight?"

Yuuri moaned and his cock jerked. "Victo-"

"Ah ah," Victor chided, bucking his hips so that their erections slid deliciously together. "Say it right," he demanded.

" _Daddy_ ," Yuuri whispered. Victor had never really considered himself 'into' this kind of playing. He didn't have any lingering issues with his father, wasn't driven to dominate his partners (though there were times when it could be _delicious_ ), and didn't even need dirty talk to get off. Still, he couldn't deny the primal thrill that had shot through him at Yuuri's needy gasp. Part of him wondered if Yuuri could have called him anything – coach, or husband, or even king of the fairies – and in that tone of voice it would have gotten him riled up. But that wasn't necessarily all it was. There was something decidedly _naughty_ about that particular word in this context. It had him throbbing already, moving one of his hands from Yuuri's hair to reach for the little bottle on their nightstand.

"Do you know what's going to happen now, _suka_?" Victor rasped. Yuuri shook his head, eyes dilated with arousal. "Daddy's going to fuck you. And maybe, if you're a very good boy, I'll let you come." He punctuated the words by wrapping a now slick hand around Yuuri's cock. He gasped, moaned, arched up to Victor's touch helplessly.

"Yes," he begged. "Please!"

"Ask me for it," Victor demanded, sliding two fingers into Yuuri's eager body.

"P-please," he breathed. "Please fuck me, daddy."

Victor felt another thrill go through him and his cock jerked in anticipation. He quickly pulled his hand out of the way and lined himself up. "Ready?" he asked softly. Yuuri nodded, biting his lip to stifle his moans. In one smooth thrust, Victor buried himself in Yuuri to the hilt. Yuuri cried out, clutching Victor's hips to pull him deeper. His head thrashed on the pillow as Victor slid back and then thrust forward again. Soon he had Yuuri's knee pinned to his chest and was driving into him roughly. Yuuri's nails raked down Victor's back as he spurred him on, body tensing more and more until-

"I-I'm... gonna-"

"That's it," Victor ground out, his lean frame trembling violently as he fought to stave off his own orgasm for just a little longer. "Come for daddy," he urged roughly. Yuuri let out a garbled cry and his back arched. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him, making him clench so tightly that Victor felt climax surging upward hot and fierce. He called Yuuri's name and held him close, shuddering through his release.

It wasn't until the sweat began to cool on their skin that they finally separated. Victor passed Yuuri the damp cloth he'd placed on the nightstand earlier so that he could clean up while Victor brushed Yuuri's hair out of his eyes and kissed him lightly.

"That was..." Yuuri huffed out a breath and grinned.

"Indeed it was," Victor agreed. "Though I'll admit that I'm surprised."

"Why?" A slight blush had begun to creep up Yuuri's face, as worry about Victor's reaction began to set in. Victor _tsk_ ed and tapped his forefinger against Yuuri's nose.

"No getting embarrassed," he admonished lightly. "I'm glad you brought it up. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I guess I just thought that you would be more turned on by praise than by dirty talk."

"Because of how anxious I get?"

"Mostly. But also because you're so sweet and innocent most of the time that I occasionally forget a sex demon lives in there, too." Victor grinned. Yuuri swatted him.

"You're the demon here," he grumbled. "Besides, it's not like I'd want that kind of dirty talk all the time. I do like the praise. I love that you tell me all the things you like about me, the things that arouse you, the things you love about me... But sometimes... Well, sometimes something a little kinkier is nice too. That is, if you're sure you don't mind."

"Not at all. As long as you know that I love every single inch of you, inside and out. That you're the most precious thing in the universe to me, and that the day you agreed to be mine forever is the day all my dreams came true."

This time, Yuuri's blush was full and bright, but he didn't look bashful. He looked entranced. "I know," he admitted softly. "And you, Victor, my Vitya, you know that you're the best thing that ever happened to me, don't you? That I've never been even a fraction as happy as I am with you? That I'll stay by your side for every single moment you'll let me?"

"I know," Victor repeated back, kissing Yuuri softly. They cuddled close and fell asleep entwined, sharing breath and dreams.


	18. Little Green Monster

Little Green Monster

Yuuri is used to the fact that everyone loves Victor. It's always been a fact, since long before they were even a couple. Hell, Yuuri has always loved Victor, too, so it's not like he can blame them. Yuuri has even come so far as to realize that people love _him_ as well. Not just those in the skating world like Miname, but other people too. Strangers who have read about him in magazines or seen his picture in the paper.

Really, he's adjusted to the knowledge that, as acclaimed figure skaters, they get a lot of attention. But still, Yuuri Katsuki is a jealous man at heart. Even though he wants Victor to grow and flourish on his own, there will always be a part of him that wants to steal Victor away and hide him from the rest of the world. Wants to keep the man all to himself.

Of course, he puts those impulses firmly behind him whenever they arise. For the most part. Because it's not as if Victor has ever given him even a hint of a reason to doubt his loyalty or fidelity. In fact, it's almost laughable to think of Victor sharing his affection with anyone else. He's been focused on Yuuri and _only_ Yuuri for a long time.

And so Yuuri is extremely disgruntled with himself that he feels a sharp, bitter tug of jealousy when he sees Victor across the rink talking to two beautiful women who are obviously _fawning_ over him. No reason. He has no reason at all to be jealous. At. All. Right? So why won't the ugly feeling go away? Victor is smiling at them, the almost too-sweet smile he reserves for fans and reporters, not his real smile that makes his nose wrinkle and the corners of his eyes crease. Just when Yuuri thinks he's getting a handle on the frustrating emotion, one of the women puts her hand on Victor's arm and laughs. Yuuri sees red. He's about to skate over to them when the other woman pulls something out of her hair – a pen, he realizes – and long, shiny blonde strands come cascading down around her like some kind of goddamn shampoo commercial. She twirls one lock around her finger as she hands the pen to Victor and gestures to him.

It's too far for Yuuri to hear what she says, but he assumes it has something to do with getting an autograph. Instead of giving into his catty impulses, Yuuri stays where he is, determined not to interfere. But, _he swears to all that's holy if she sticks out her chest for Victor to sign, he's gonna toss her off the icy by that perfect fucking hair_.

Victor puts the pen to a piece of paper that the other woman pulls from her pocket, and laughs with them as he hands the autograph over. It's obvious to anyone with a pulse that the women are flirting with Victor, and though he doesn't seem to be doing anything at all to encourage them, he's not exactly putting a stop to it, either. Yuuri doesn't like it. Still, it's not like he can glide over there and haul Victor away. It would be exceptionally uncouth. Rude. Childish. Really, he needs to stop imagining it before he finds himself doing it anyway.

Instead, he gets a better idea. He strips off his jacket to reveal the skin tight thermal t shirt he's wearing beneath it, and pulls the tie from his hair. He doesn't shake his head seductively, but the fine black strands come slipping down all the same, longer than he's ever had them. He's been growing out his hair as a sort of tribute to Victor, homage to his younger days and a treat for the man himself. Victor loves carding his hands through Yuuri's long hair, loves brushing it back from his face, loves wrapping it around his fist as they have sex. He also loves watching Yuuri skate with it down, but Yuuri doesn't do it often. Victor might have made it look effortless in his teen years, but skating with long hair whipping around ones face was _not_ an easy endeavor.

Yuuri always ended up feeling more silly than sexy, so he kept it pulled back while they skated, even just for practice. Now, though, he lets it tumble down to his shoulder blades freely and glides toward the middle of the rink. He isn't directly in Victor's line of sight, but he's definitely visible. With no proper music playing, Yuuri lifts his arm, twists it slowly with his fingers outstretched, then slides backward. It was his favorite program of Victor's from his youth, and Yuuri had always admired the way Victor had used his long, silver hair as an extension of himself as he danced across the ice. Yuuri puts as much of that same technique into the routine, treating his hair like an extra limb. He twists and turns, letting his head roll back and his hair fan out around him.

It's going well, better than he'd anticipated, actually. The main problem is that his hair is finer than Victor's, and individual strands of it are floating free with static and sticking to his face in a very unflattering way. Disgruntled, Yuuri does a triple and then a spin, and finishes the abridged program feeling exceedingly foolish. Victor probably hasn't even noticed that he-

Except, Victor has noticed. When Yuuri looks over, Victor is staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide. The women were trying valiantly to get his attention back, but Victor is so focused on Yuuri that he doesn't seem to even hear them. He looks... entranced. Yuuri flushes. After a beat, he skates closer to Victor, who meets him half way, the fans entirely forgotten.

"Yuuri... _voakh_ ," Victor breathes. "Wow..."

"You- uh, liked that?"

"I- you- that was... _voakh_ ," he repeats. One of his hands comes up and strokes through Yuuris hair reverently. "You've never skated with it down like that before." He finally seems capable of complete sentences.

"Yeah, well... I wanted to show you that other people can flirt with their hair, too." Yuuri blushes at the admission, feeling even more childish than ever that he'd let his jealousy get the better of him.

"You mean me? Or-" Victor follows Yuuri's gaze to the women behind them. "Oh, them? Yuuri." Victor chuckles, not stopping even when Yuuri bristles. "Yuuri, they weren't flirting with me."

"Of course they were. With the hair and the touching and the smiling-"

"Really, I can assure you that they weren't flirting with me."

"They were too! Maybe you just don't see it because you-"

"Yuuri."

"-only want to see the-"

"Yuuri."

"-good in people, but sometimes-"

" _Yuuri!_ "

Yuuri finally stops his rambling and looks up. Victor smiles at him, not the _Victor Nikiforov_ , _championship skater_ smile, but the real Vitya smile. "I know they weren't flirting with me, because they're together. As in lovers. As in attracted to the female gender, of which I am not, as much as I might laugh in the face of gendernormativity."

"L-lovers?" Yuuri looks from Victor, back to the two women who seemed still confused by his sudden departure. " _Oh_."

"Oh," Victor parrots back with a mischievous grin.

"Well... still. I mean, I can't help it if I get jealous sometimes. Everyone loves you, you know."

"I know," Victor agreed humbly. He definitely _didn't_ mention the fact that both women had admitted that if there ever _was_ a man, they wouldn't mind Victor being the 'meat' of their sandwich.


	19. Language of Love

_**Yurio is referred to as Yura through most of this OS because it is mainly focused on him and Otabek (and Yura is what Otabek calls him).**_

Language of Love

Yuri Plasetski speaks his own unique language. Oh, he knows Russian and English and even Japanese (though he rarely admits it) but no matter which of those he's using, he still has his own language. Victor and Yuuri understand it. They are fairly fluent, after all the years they've known him. But nobody, _but nobody_ knows it better than Otabek Altin.

It took a surprisingly short time for him to learn it, much to Yura's initial frustration. No one had ever understood him so quickly, had seen through him so easily. But Otabek, in that silent, stoic way of his, had broken into Yura's world as easily as a wave breaking over the shore. And once he'd gotten there, he had stayed.

Slow and steady. That had always been the rhythm of their relationship. Nothing was ever rushed, nothing was ever out of sync. Perhaps, if Yura had been the one setting the pace, they would have gone full speed until they teetered off the rails. But it was Otabek who set the pace. Otabek who led, quietly, unobtrusively, as if he wasn't even leading at all. Still, Yura followed. He had known, barely after they became friends, that he would follow wherever Beka led.

At first, it had been texts exchanged after their reconnection in Barcelona. Then, as they continued to meet at competitions, it spread to every form of social media they both had. And then, even though _this is the twenty first century, no one talks on the fucking phone any more_ – according to Yura – it became phone calls. Long, late night phone calls that started off with mutual conversation and ended with them simply listening to the sound of the other breathing.

Otabek had stayed in Russia the summer after that fateful Grand Prix Final, sharing a bedroom with Yura. When he was at the airport for his trip home to Kazakhstan, Yura had hugged him. _In public_. No one at the airport even looked twice; after all, hugging was one of the most common occurrences at the airport, but Otabek understood what it meant. Yuuri and Victor were beginning to understand, too.

The next summer, Victor had been hesitant to put the two of them in the same bedroom during Otabeki's stay. But since neither of the Yuuri's seemed to see any problem with it, Otabek was again sleeping in Yurio's room. The second day that Otabek was in Russia, Victor casually separated him from the others. They were leaned against the railing, and though there were several skaters on the ice, both of them had their eyes trained on Yurio.

"You know, I read a funny thing the other day," Victor began, keeping his voice light. Otabek didn't say anything or turn his head, but Victor knew he was listening, so he went on. "About how teenager's brains are still developing as they grow. Something like, the prefrontal cortex isn't matured until mid twenties. Strange to think that in Russia, the age of consent is only sixteen, don't you think?" Otabek only made a humming sound. "In Kazakhstan, too, no?"

"It is." Otabek said the words with his usual lack of inflection.

"The American's might have it right to put their age of consent at eighteen, I think. It gives children, especially children who have had a rough childhood, or maybe have trust issues, more time to prepare for something as important and complex as a physical relationship." There was a long, heavy silence. "Of course, teenagers have sex all the time and no one can stop them if its what they really want. But sometimes they are so impulsive that they forget there can be... consequences." Victor never turned his eyes from the ice, but Otabek felt the directness of his words. Apparently, Victor Nikiforov had his own language, too. Otabek pushed back from the railing.

"You're right, something like love can't be controlled, not by age or distance or any other limits." He started to walk away but stopped when he was standing directly behind Victor. "But I agree with you. Eighteen is the _earliest_ one should consider engaging in that kind of physical relationship." Then he continued on.

Victor smiled.

**0

Slow and steady, that was always the way of things between them. The only possible exception to that rule was affection. After the first summer they spent together, Yura never hesitated to prop his feet in Otabek's lap if they were sitting at the table, or use him as a pillow while they watched a movie. It always seemed so natural, so casual, that no one questioned it. The fact that Yura refrained from physical contact with almost anyone else didn't seem to matter.

Once, while they were sitting back to back on the bed reading, Otabek's hand brushed Yura's. There was a moment where neither moved, then Yura's pinky shifted the slightest bit so that it hooked around Otabek's. Two minutes later, Otabek laced their fingers together without a word. They sat like that until dinner. It happened again while they were watching skating videos a few days later. Yura's hand shifted until it was resting only just not touching Beka's. Then a moment later they were holding hands.

It's as far as they got until Otabek's last day in Russia the second summer. Before they left for the airport, Yura took him to the rink one last time. He told Victor and Yuuri that he wanted to get more practice in, but they both knew better. To be fair, Yura and Otabek did skate for nearly an hour before Yura gruffly informed him that was quite enough. They made it half a dozen steps out of the building before Yura worked up the courage to tug Otabek into the alley. He surreptitiously checked that no one was around, then pushed Beka against the wall.

"Beka," he bit out, face red and teeth gritted. Otabek didn't say anything, didn't try to move, barely even breathed. He waited. Patiently. Understandingly. It wasn't until something like pain flashed across Yura's face and he was about to turn away that Otabek moved. He grabbed Yura's shoulders to keep him still and closed the distance between their lips. Yura was nearly taller than him by that point, so they met easily, a soft, electric touch that they both felt all the way to their toes. Then as if a switch had been flipped, Yura had pushed Beka against the wall again and deepened the kiss. Lips parted, tongues met, breath was shared between them.

It was as heated as it was quick, lighting up like a match and then burning out. Otabek gently eased Yura away and unlaced his fingers from his long, blonde hair. They stared at each other, communicating in that silent way of theirs until there could be no doubt as to what they both wanted, what they both felt.

"Next time I see you, we're doing that again," Yura snapped, tugging Otabek out of the alley without looking at him. Beka didn't have to acknowledge the words any more than he had to see Yura's face to know it was bright red.

**0

When they _did_ see each other again at competitions during the season, several things changed. The first was that they began to meet up before heading to the rink so that they didn't have to try and find each other in the crowd. It didn't seem like a big change to many – in fact, hardly anyone even noticed – but it unintentionally eased things for them later.

They walked in so close together that they nearly brushed against each other, though they rarely did so in public.

"Yurio's smiling, why is Yurio smiling?" Victor asked when he spotted them.

"I am not smiling. And if I was, I'm allowed to smile. I don't need a reason." Yura glared at Victor and Yuuri. Victor looked to Otabek.

"JJ tripped in the parking lot."

" _Beka!_ "

Otabek shrugged and ushered Yura towards the locker rooms. They passed JJ – who had retired two seasons before after an injury and had gone on to become an overnight sensation as a pop singer – in the hall and Yura laughed in his face. JJ pulled his wife a little closer and rolled his eyes, muttering about all the awards he'd won.

By the next competition, no one even batted an eye when Yura and Otabek showed up at the rink together. They had nearly a week of events in China, and this time, they were both in the same hotel. Since he'd turned eighteen, Yura insisted on having his own room instead of staying with a group, which no one batted an eye at, either. What they _would_ have batted an eye at, batted both eyes, quite fervently at, was Yura knocking on Otabek's door after they've already parted ways for the night. And at Otabek letting Yura in without question.

There was a moment, when the door closed and they both stared at each other in the semi-darkness, when hesitation crossed Yura's face. It froze Otabek in his tracks. Still, Yura walked forward and tugged Otabek close, almost mechanically. Otabek, now the shorter of the two of them, put his hands on Yura's to stop him.

" _Altynym_ ," Otabek whispered, using the endearment that stuck even after Yura found out what it meant. "We don't have to-"

"Shut up," Yura whispered roughly. "You think I don't know that?" He shook his head and brought his forehead down to rest against Otabek's. "I _want_ to. I want... you, Beka. Don't make me say it again."

Otabek nodded and kissed him, pulling him close and letting his hands wander over the taut muscles of Yura's back. They stumbled towards the bed and then crashed down on it, their intensity increasing until they were a jumble of limbs catching at clothes and getting tangled in buttons. Yura pulled back long enough to empty his pockets on the bedside table. Otabek stared as an inordinate number of condoms, three different kinds of lube in five flavors, a cock ring, fingertip vibrator, and a pair of handcuffs all piled onto the table.

"You came prepared," Otabek murmured. Yura flushed bright red.

"Yeah, well I haven't done this before, okay? I wanted to make sure we had everything we needed to... do it."

Otabek frowned. "We don't need any of that to have sex."

"You know what I mean," Yura growled. "For you to _fuck_ me. Now stop talking and grab one of those packets. You'll have to do all the preparation, because I don't know how, and I don't want it to fucking hurt." He pulled off his shirt and flopped back onto the bed. Otabek looked from the pile of sex paraphernalia to the man stretched out on his bed like a pagan sacrifice.

"I don't know what you've been reading-"

"Beka," Yura started to interrupt, but Otabek covered his mouth with his hand.

"No. I don't say much, but I've got something to say about this and you're damn well going to listen." Yura stared at him, shocked, then nodded. Otabek pulled his hand away and leaned over so that they were eye to eye. "I want you to forget whatever notions you've filled your head with. What we do together, we do because we both want to and feel comfortable with. Which means you've got to communicate with me. You've got to tell me what you want to try, what you don't like, what you want more of. And if you're not ready for all of this-" he waved at the pile, "then there's nothing wrong with that. Trust me, there are plenty of other things we can do. There's no rush." There was a pause, and then Otabek smirked, one brow raised. "And frankly, I'm surprised you'd want to be on the bottom if we did go that far."

Yura scowled. "Oh, please," he snapped. "As if I would be opposed to it. You know I don't buy any of that feminizing bullshit. I can be the Russian Fairy and still be the Ice Tiger, remember?" A lazy, arrogant smile spread across his face. "And what I want, is you. All of you. Right now." He leaned up on his elbows and kissed Otabek softly. "I told you not to make me say it again. Now grab one of those and take your fucking pants off."

Otabek grinned and snatched one of the packets blindly. "Not that one, idiot, I only got the banana one as a joke-" Yura was cut off with another kiss, and soon the only sound in the room was gasps and moans.

**0

The next day, when they arrived at the rink together, it was as if nothing had changed. As if the two of them hadn't just spent the entire night in each other's arms. As if Yura hadn't woken up the happiest he'd ever felt. As if there weren't six different hickeys scattered across Otabek's body hidden by his clothes.

If Victor noticed Yura humming absent-mindedly, he didn't mention it. If Yuuri saw Otabek flush a little when he looked at Yura's lips, he didn't say anything, either. Neither of them expected any kind of updates on the younger couple's romantic lives. Still, it was good to see them so happy.

**0

The third summer, Yura was glad that Victor and Yuuri had paid to have their bedroom soundproofed. He'd been glad for it before – because he would have rather strangled himself with his skate laces rather than hear the two of them going at it like drunk bunnies every night – but that summer he was _especially_ glad for it.

In fact, if it hadn't been for a rather mortifying incident on the couch one night after he'd fallen asleep watching a movie, the set up might have suited him for far longer. But that one awful slip had been enough to make him decide that it was time for things to change. With Victor retired, it was only a matter of time before he and Yuuri moved to Japan permanently anyway.

So Yura got his own apartment in St Petersburg. He and Otabek picked it out together, which was only fair, because Beka would, of course, be staying in it half the time anyway. They trained in Russia during the summer, traveled during the skating season, and spent the rest of their time in Kazakhstan. Yura met all of Otabek's enormous family, who accepted him with open arms. Well, mostly. Yura and Otabek's littlest sister Mia seemed at odds, but Otabek was fairly certain it was mostly because Mia had a crush on Yura. And because Yura could find a way to pick a fight with a houseplant, if given the opportunity.

On the drive back from Otabek's parent's house to their apartment after dinner one night – during which Yura and Mia had bickered over which of the two of them was Otabek's biggest fan, a fight that hadn't been settled – Otabek glanced over at Yura. It was a warm night, and the windows were down, which made Yura's now shorter blonde hair ruffle wildly in the wind.

"Would you want to get married?" Otabek asked casually. Yura turned back to face him slowly, as if his head was on an old-fashioned crank.

"What did you just say?" Yura's voice was dangerously low.

"I said-"

"I heard what you said," Yura snapped. "I just couldn't believe this is how and when you'd choose to bring it up. Pull the car over."

"What?"

"Pull the fucking car over!" he snarled. Otabek found a deserted turn off and stopped the car. When he looked over, Yura was glaring at him. "Now say it again."

"I asked if you would want to get married," Otabek repeated, a little more hesitantly this time.

"And even if I did, even if _either_ of our countries allowed it, _this_ is how you would ask? In the car, with no preamble, no other explanation, just BAM there it is?"

Otabek rubbed the back of his neck abashedly. "Ah, I guess this wasn't quite the right way to do it?"

"No," Yura snapped, "it fucking wasn't. As it happens, even if we _could-_ "

"We could always go to France or Canada. Sweden's nice this time of year, too," Otabek supplied helpfully. Yura glared at him.

"Even if we _could_ ," he went on, "I don't need a piece of goddamn paper to tell me who I love and want to spend my life with. Making a commitment is one thing. Asking the government for permission is another. We don't need anybody's fucking permission."

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly about the subject."

"Well now you do."

"Yura, would you-"

"I know that you're not about to make a very unromantic declaration of commitment to me. I know this because I already told you that it was unromantic, and that the car on a random night isn't the right time or place for such a thing."

Otabek smiled a little and nodded. "Of course," he agreed. With that, he started the car again and drove the rest of the way home, holding the hand Yura had slipped into his lap and enjoying the blush that had brightened his cheeks.

**0

"Where would you want to live after we retire?" Otabek asked after Yura took gold for the first time since his senior debut. Yura looked at him like he was crazy.

"I get gold, you get silver, and you're talking about retiring?"

"I'm not talking about retiring. I'm just saying, when we do-"

"In another decade," Yura interjected. Otabek's eyes widened in shock and Yura scowled. "Don't give me that look. Victor made it to thirty, so I'll make it to thirty-one."

"Alright, fine. In a decade, when I've been retired for a reasonable amount of time and you're finally ready to retire, where would you want to live full time? I'm assuming you wouldn't want to spend the rest of our lives half in Kazakhstan and half in Russia."

"Yeah, well, when we lose the excuse of competing, I'm not sure either country would be a great place for us to still live together."

"Astana has come a long way, but you're probably right."

"It's bullshit," Yura snapped, tucking his head against Otabek's shoulder. Despite the fact that he was by far the larger of the two men, he still curled himself in Beka's lap like an overgrown cat.

"It is." Otabek ran his fingers through Yura's hair absently as they both thought about the future and the reality of the world around them. "Do you ever regret it?" he suddenly asked. Yura stilled, then pulled back enough to look into Otabek's eyes.

"That's the stupidest fucking question you've ever asked me." He tried to snarl the words, but there was no malice in them. "Like I would ever care what anyone else thinks or says."

"Still."

"Of course not, you idiot. How could I regret the best thing that ever happened to me?"

Beka smiled. "Better than that gold medal?" Yura looked over to where the medal was hanging, then back to the man holding him.

"You don't expect me to actually admit to that sentimental crap, do you?" When Otabek said nothing, Yura sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Yes, better than winning gold, now or at my senior debut. I suppose it's been a while since I said it last, but I fucking love you, and the fact that you love me too is some sort of miracle. So yes, the _best_ thing that ever happened to me, bar none." He hid his flushed cheeks by tucking his head under Otabek's chin. "Don't expect me to say any of that shit for another year, at least," he growled.

Beka wrapped his arms around Yura tight and felt as though his heart would burst, it was so full. "Say it again," he asked softly.

"I love you," Yura whispered back, utterly ignoring his own words from only moments before.

"I love you too, _altynym_."

They sat in silence for a long time, holding each other close and basking in the warmth of each other's love. "I guess we could always move to Japan, when the time comes," Yura finally said. "Its got... nice beaches."

"Mm," Otabek agreed. "And I happen to know a great town with the most relaxing hot spring you could ever dream of."


	20. Luckiest Man on Earth

Luckiest Man on Earth

It was laundry day. Victor loved laundry day. Sometimes he wore an extra shirt or spilled something on his jeans on purpose, just to speed it along. It probably wasn't fair, considering Yuuri was the one who actually did the chore, but Victor couldn't help himself. No matter how long he and Yuuri were together, he always saw something new and exciting on laundry day, and he'd made sure they had the whole morning open because he knew what would inevitably ensue.

The coffee finished percolating and Victor poured himself a cup, sipping it black then setting about doctoring a second cup with sugar and milk for Yuuri. As if on cue, the bedroom door opened. Victor held his breath. Yuuri stepped out wearing a pair of the snug black boxer briefs he favored and Victor's favorite knit sweater. It was several sizes too big on him, exposing his collar bones and one slim shoulder. The sleeves were far too long, one hanging down past his finger tips and the other pushed up over his forearm. Yuuri yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, unconsciously stretching his lithe body for Victor's perusal.

"What time is it, Vitya?" he asked in a sleep roughed voice.

Despite having prepared himself for it, despite having seen every inch of Yuuri's body in every variation of naked and clothed imaginable, despite the fact that he was used to being greeted by sights like that one every laundry day for the last several years, Victor still stared, utterly in awe of the man standing barefoot and half awake in the kitchen.

 _How the hell did I get so lucky_? he wondered.

"Victor?" Yuuri picked up his coffee cup and looked curiously at his husband.

"Ah, a little after nine," Victor finally managed to say when he felt he could form coherent words.

"We don't have anything going on till noon, right?"

"Mmhm," Victor agreed absently. He drew Yuuri closer and put down his coffee cup so he could run his hands over Yuuri's body, lingering on his hip bones and rubbing small circles. He leaned in and began kissing up Yuuri's neck.

"I should get some laundry done today. This was the only clean shirt I could find." Yuuri plucked at the loose hem of the shirt he was wearing.

"A shame," Victor murmured, not sounding at all remorseful. He continued the kisses up Yuuri's jaw and began to nibble on his ear.

"My, someone is rather ardent today. Anyone would think you hadn't just gotten some relief eight hours ago."

"Yes, but that was a _whole_ eight hours, and you look positively edible in this." He slid his hand up the back of the pull over, running his blunt nails over the skin of Yuuri's back. His other hand dipped down beneath the snug fabric of Yuuri's pants.

"I don't suppose," Yuuri whispered breathlessly, setting down his coffee and giving into the temptation of his husband's hands, "that you remembered to stock the kitchen?"

"Stock the kitchen?" Victor paused his efforts to remove both their pants to look questioningly at Yuuri.

"For... this?" Yuuri lifted both brows suggestively.

"Oh!" A wicked gleam came to Victor's eyes. He finished divesting them of underwear, hitched Yuuri's legs around his waist, and set him up on the counter – which happened to be the perfect height for Victor's hips. He opened the cupboard just above them and pulled a small, sleek bottle from behind the cinnamon. "I most certainly did."

Yuuri moaned in answer as Victor drizzled the cool liquid over them both and began kissing him in earnest. Victor lifted Yuuri's leg to plant his foot on the counter while Yuuri braced his hand on the cabinet above him. "Don't tease me, Victor," he pleaded. "I'm ready."

"Now who's the eager one?" Victor chuckled, rubbing the head of his cock tormentingly close to where Yuuri wanted it most. In response, Yuuri tightened his leg around Victor's waist, driving his cock an inch inside and making them both gasp. "Yuuri!" Victor gripped Yuuri's throbbing erection tightly as if in rebuke, but began to stroke it as he slowly thrust deeper.

In moments, they were both rocking their hips together, gasping for air and shuddering with every fresh wave of pleasure. Victor picked up the pace, slamming into Yuuri hard and fast, then slowed down until he was drawing out every thrust to excruciating intensity. Yuuri's nails dug into his back as he spurred him on, leaving furrows Victor would be able to see for days.

"I can't wait any more," Yuuri gasped, his head thrown back, mouth open and chest heaving. Sweat glistened on their skin. "Please," he begged. Any restraint Victor had left evaporated like smoke. He canted his hips until he was hitting the same spot over and over again, the one that never failed to send Yuuri careening into release. Just as Yuuri began trembling beneath him, Victor's own orgasm crashed into him. He kept thrusting through it, forcing pleasure to sing along their veins more and more until they couldn't take any more.

Victor buried his face against Yuuri's shoulder. He held his husband tight and was again struck by just how fucking lucky he was. "Luckiest man alive," he murmured.

"What was that, love?" Yuuri asked, drawing Victor back so he could see his face.

"Me," Victor clarified. "I'm the luckiest man alive." Yuuri smiled softly at him, then brushed Victor's damp hair from his eyes.

"You'll have to fight me for that position," he admonished. "Unless you're willing to share."

 **Bonus Scene:**

 _ **If you can't read the label, don't try to wash your hair with it**_

"Oy, Victor," Yurio called, loud enough to be heard over the shower and through the bathroom door.

" _Da_?"

"I think whatever this Japanese shampoo is, it's gone bad or something. It won't lather and my head feels all greasy."

"Japanese shampoo?" Yuuri's brows drew together in confusion. "The only shampoo in there is the kind you brought back from Russia."

"Ah, what's it look like?" Victor called through the door, trying to ignore the nagging suspicion he had.

"Tall bottle, kind of clearish red, smells like strawberry. Japanese writing on it. Don't recognize the characters."

Both Victor and Yuuri's eyes widened. "Oh, my-"

"Yurio," Victor cleared his throat when his voice pitched an octave too high. "That's not shampoo."

"Not shampoo? Then what else could it-" There was a pause. " _Svyatoy yebut!_ " A garbled cry of horror echoed from inside the bathroom, followed by furious splashing. "You fucking perverts! Why do you have lube in your bath tub?"

Victor chuckled. "Why do you think?"

For a moment only the sound of the shower was heard, then all three of the men in the living room could practically _see_ the smirk in Yurio's voice.

"Beka," he called throatily. "Get in here."

Otabek looked between Victor and Yuuri. It was one thing to stay with your boyfriend's quasi parents when you came to town for a visit. It was another thing to have sex in their shower with them sitting a few feet away and _knowing_ about it. Yuuri had blushed to the roots of his hair and Victor hadn't moved. What the hell. It wasn't as if they weren't aware that he and Yura had a healthy, active sex life. He rose, gave the two of them a small salute, and went into the bathroom.

"We're going out, see you in a few hours," came the hurried call from the living room. Yurio cackled and beckoned Otabek into the shower.


End file.
